Skyrim: Bonds of Blood
by LoveRedbird
Summary: A young Redguard woman with a dark past comes to Skyrim for her brothers. What she finds is her destiny.
1. Arrival

**Hey! I'm LoveRedbird, and this the first of what I hope will be a long series telling the story of Rontu and her search for her brothers. I hope you enjoy, and please give your reviews. This is also my first fanfiction, so I'm excited for any feedback! **

"If you mean to enter Riften, you must pay the visitor's tax," he grinned. "Ten septims. New

Imperial regulation, you know."

"Visitor's tax. . ?"

Paia's skeptical gaze floated between mine and the city guard's before settling on the gates of the river city, Riften. His livery was violet, his shield bearing the crossed swords of Riften and his visage gave away nothing. That is, until I saw the amulet of Talos peeking out from under his mail.

This was Stormcloak territory.

"Yes. All who mean to come into the city must pay. It's the law."

"It's horseshit," I retorted icily, "My companion here has the way of it. The law, my ass, you're no more than thieves."

I can see Paia smirk out of the corner of my eye, and it's taking all I can not to laugh, too.

Thieves, indeed.

"Alright, alright!" he bellowed. "You dun wanna wake the whole city, do ye? I'll let you in, just lemme open the gates."

"Amateurs," Paia snorted, as we passed through.

"Yeah," I sighed. "Everybody's a charlatan nowadays. Even him."

"Not yet," she whispered. "Not yet."

Just as she said this, a massive wall of a man with ink black hair, armor and mail stepped out before us.

"And just who might you be?"

"And just who is asking?"

"You first, girl. And don't lie. I'll know if you're lying."

Paia glanced warily at me, and I shrugged.

If he did open his mouth, we could always kill him.

"I am Paia Al'harif. My companion is Rontu O'Naharis."

"And how, exactly, do two Redguard women go about coming to and traversing our Skyrim?"

"Oh, you're one of those," Paia murmured, and I knew just what she meant. One of the 'NORDS ONLY, OTHERWISE GET THE FUCK OUT' types. We were only two months into Skyrim, and the racial tension was thick and choking. It only got worse as we grew closer and closer to the Stormcloak capitol, Windhelm.

I was tired of the racial tension.

"I believe the question was, 'How did you go about coming to Skyrim'?" he snapped.

"Very carefully."

His jaw tensed for a bit before he broke out into a grin.

"You're either very bold, or very stupid."

"And I'm thinking the same of you for saying so aloud." I wet my lips, the back paint taste coming to my mouth along with the cold sea air. "Yourself?"

"Me? I'm Maul. Gather intel for the Black Briar family. Somewhat of an information broker." He crossed his arms. "Anyone of note enters Riften, and I'm the first one on it."

"And are we of note?"

"Even without knowing what City you're from, or why you came to this godsforsaken land, it's a definite 'yes'. Foreigners always tend to be people of interest. Especially with those eyes of yours."

Now he's staring.

And I'm used to that; Zo'an eyes aren't common anywhere. They're completely white, from pupil to iris, and though they bring unnecessary attention, which I'm strongly against, their pros outweigh their cons.

"They're eyes." I squeezed the hilt of Nhale at my hip, "Just like any. They help me see."

"Yeah? See what?"

Everything.

"See normally," I lie. "The color is a side effect. Of an operation." He nods, and strokes his chin; still suspicious, but not as much as before. It was time to change the subject. "So, master information broker. Where could two weary travelers find warm beds and warm mead?"

"The Bee and Barb, that's what you'll need," he said instantly. "Right along the main boardwalk; the middle fork. Can't miss it."

"My thanks."

"Until next time."

He watched us walk away.

As soon as we entered the pub, my Zo'an eyes began to take inventory. In the center of the room, there was a priest, a high septim it seemed, for the Temple of Mara. Along one wall I noticed two men and a woman in freshly upgraded Steel armor, and armed to the teeth. Mercenaries, those. I noticed a man at the foot of the stairs, not watching the entertainment (a few young bards from Solitude, no doubt. I noticed the barmaid, and bar owner, both Argonian, and obviously in love-matching wedding bands, each engraved with three flawless amethysts. They weren't married, just building revenue.

For now.

I took in a drunkard, begging for mead, an icy Nord woman in a corner, and the dark-skinned Redgard man she was blatantly ignoring.

I did not see Jarsha.

I did not see my brother.

I allow my eyes to peruse the room more, and they find another pair, watching me watching everyone else. In my mind, I run through all the options: He might recognize my face-my brothers and I all look alike. He might be scrutinizing my eyes. Or, he might just have a fetish for Redguard women.

I held his gaze a little longer before turning back to Paia. "On your guard," I whispered.

"How may we assist you?" The Argonian owner asked. "Would you like a room? Mead? A signature drink? All three?"

"The room and a full meal. Black Briar mead. Roast pheasant, if you got."

"As you please my fiancee', Keerava, will show you to your rooms."

As we moved to follow the Argonian woman up the stairs, I turned back to where the stranger had been sitting. he was no longer there, but I could just feel his presence somewhere nearby.

We reached the top of the stairs, and rounded the hall, passing by the open doors of what had to be the inn's best rooms, as expected, in use by a Black-Briar. What I didn't expect, was her friend, the man from downstairs, in open transaction with her.

"Don't fail me now, Brynjolf," she sneered. "You can tell Mercer Frey much of the-" She cut herself off, as she notice me in the hall. I never made eye-contact with her, or paid her any attention, though I should have. I was too busy watching him.

Brynjolf.

His face, of cool blue eyes, and lightly bronzed skin was framed by long, russet hair. He was tall, broad-shouldered and barrel-chested. Though mischievous, his eyes were above all, kind. Those shoulder tapered down to his V-shaped torso, which led to long legs and sure feet.

My first thought was his beauty.

My second was his armor.

No doubt it was the armor of the thieves; I knew it well enough. It was the same style Jarsha proudly wore the last time we. . .

Unconsciously, my lips curved into a smile, at which his brows raised high. Alas, our little moment in eternity was over, and speed returned to the world. I broke eye-contact with this main, and entered our rooms as he exited Maven's, and as I went to shut the door, we made eye-contact once more.

He turned to fully face me, curiosity apparent in those laughing, laughing eyes, and made for the door, which was shut deftly before he could reach it. I was not prepared to deal with anyone of the infamous Thieves Guild just yet.

Sheer luck had gotten me this far; now tricky would get me in.

I turned to face Paia, who sat unwinding the long tresses of her goddess braids.

"Let's eat," I sighed.

Hours later, I was still awake, unable to fall asleep. Instead I sat at a table in the adjoining room, sharpening my- our - steel greatsword. Father's Will. It had been in the O'Naharis family for generations.

My oldest brother, Adjin, sent it back once he became Dark Brother. Jarsha returned it after signing on as one of the infamous Thieves Guild.

It was now mine.

I finished with the whetstone and let my fingers run over the letters of our name.

O'Naharis.

There was an uproar, when my father bestowed it to me.

"Her? A woman? Ridiculous!"

My uncle Aisir's ears were practically steaming.

"Not just ridiculous, it's blasphemy! This was our father's sword, Raigatz. Baba's."

"And he'd be just as proud with it in Rontu's hands than with any of your sons'," my father responded, amused. "I am the eldest. This sword is my birthright. Which of you dares to deny my will, for Father's Will?"

Needless to say, none of them did,

"Rontu..?" Paia mumbled sleepily.

"Did I wake you? Don't mind me, just go back to sleep."

She assented groggily, before returning to the bedroom.

"Brynjolf," I whispered. "Just what sort of man are you?"


	2. Chapter 2: A Meeting

I trotted down the stairs of the Bee and Barb, draping the soft, sky-blue Alik'r hood tightly around my neck, before tucking it into the collar of my shirt. I scanned the sparsely populated main hall. Afterwards, I would say I was looking for Paia.

But I wasn't.

She was already seated at a corner table, taking slow sips of ale, and making a bitter expression after each one. I let a silly grin take over my features; she hated the stuff so much, but she was trying so hard. I knew it was for my sake. Here, the Nords drank their harsh mead with their harsh snows- Paia and I were children of the sun, she especially. I, for the most part, had gotten used to the weather, but it was not kind to her at all.

My friend was a short girl, plump and dark brown like mahogany. Her cheeks were full, with deep dimples slicing into them with even the slightest hint of her smile. Her eyes were like a deer;s, big and round and dark, and her hair was long, black and curly, when she wore it out of her elaborate goddess braids. Like me, she was dressed in traditional Alik'r garb, though she had a large fur that I bought as soon as we had touched ground in Solitude.

As much as Paia despised the cold lands of Skyrim, she loved the sea with all she had. That is where I had to disagree. With each passing day, I grew to hate the sea more and more. It was pulling me farther away from light and heat and all the things, and I was sick the entire voyage.

Once we reached Skyrim, though. . .I honestly felt more at home than I had in Hegathe, a fact which I dreaded telling Paia of. It was selfish enough of me to have her come with me; I couldn't bring myself to tell her that while she suffered, I intended to stay.

I shook my head, laughing bitterly to myself as I approached her, and that was when I saw the spread.

A plate of warm sweet rolls and boiled cream tarts lay before her, along with poached eggs, roast rabbit haunches, tankards of ale, and large, red apples.

I raised my brows at Paia.

"Don't look at me," she laughed. "The breakfast you see before you is the courtesy of Maven Black-Briar."

My eyes widened, and I sighed in disbelief.

"How do they say- 'Dance on his door, and Sheograth will come'?"

Paia tilted her head back and cackled, her voice light and sweet.

"Keep on, Rontu, keep on. You sound more and more like these damned Nords every day."

Don't say that.

Instead of answering with something that would worry her, or with a lie, I sat down. Instead of continuing, she pressed a note to me.

"Maven also left this for you."

"What does Maven Black-Briar want with the likes of me?"

"Dunno," she replied, returning to her cup. "Maybe she wants to teach us how these people drink this shit."

I sighed again, and opened the letter.

_Lady O'Naharis._

_Your presence in my city is surprising, but not unwelcome. You are now warned against making it the latter. I look forward to speaking with you, concerning our beloved Jarsha. Allow me to refer you to Brynjolf in the square for more information, or to contact me. I am sure you will. And soon, I think._

_Enjoy your stay,_

_-M_

"She knows where he is; Jarsha," I breathed.

Paia stopped drinking and stared.

"The bitch."

"Damnit to hell," I hissed. I grabbed a sweet roll, and an ale before turning back to her. "Keep your

eyes open, Paia. I'm going to go speak to this Brynjolf. You finish eating and do some digging. We'll meet back here in the room."

"You mean the guy from last night, Brynjolf?" she asked. I couldn't respond, just gape."The one with the clear blue eyes and the red hair?" I still could only gape. She beamed, "You talk in your sleep."

I grinned sheepishly, tried to hide it with a cough.

"I'm going to ignore that," I announced, and took a purse of septims from the pouch on my waist and peered into it before handing it to her. "Use this to pay for breakfast."

"But it was on the house," she said, confused. "Maven-"

"I won't take any handouts from Maven Black-Briar," I called over my shoulder."Not while she's hiding my brother."

I opened the doors of the Bee and Barb to a clear and sunny morning, which I greatly appreciated. They were rare enough in this cold place. As I neared the square, the smell of the lake refreshed my senses, and made me long for home. For Hegathe. For my family.

"You haven't done an honest day's work for your coin, have you lass? Not for those clothes or armor neither."

I turned ever so slowly to face the owner of the deep voice. Even though I knew whose it was.

"And just who are you calling a thief. . .thief."

"Shush with that," he warned. "D'you want to give the damn guards something to squeal about?"

"So you are with the Guild."

"Never denied it, lass."

"Then, you must know Jarsha." His face was stuck in that charming grin, though it no longer reached his eyes. I would have laughed if I didn't want the answer so badly. "Or would you deny that?"

"Hey, now," he tutted. "Of course I know him."

"Oh." I hadn't expected him to just. . .just. . .tell me so. Nothing's that easy.

"Look." Brynjolf sighed. "I know you must have questions; hell, I'm sure your questions have questions. Especially about your brother. I get that. And you can ask them, lass. Just not here."

I opened my mouth.

To scream, to curse, to cry.

Five years, I'd been searching for my brother. Waited to see his faces. And seven long years since I'd last seen Adji. Here stood a man capable of sending me to Jarsha, at least, or vice-versa, and hilariously, ironically, tragically, being made to wait a bit longer was making me feel so lost. So desperate.

I shut my mouth.

Swallowed my words.

I could wait some more.

"Fine," I seethed. "Have it your own way."

"There's a good lass," he murmured encouragingly. "All there is now is for you to prove yourself."

Well, that did it.

"Prove my- Listen here, you bastard," I snarled. "I have crossed two continents and two oceans to find my brother. I didn't go all this way for my fucking health. I came to seek my brothers, and my land, and you're standing between me and my way on." I subtly changed up my guard, right foot before the left, and placed my hand lightly on the hilt of Nhale. "So, forgive me if I seem a little antsy."

Brynjolf glanced briefly at my feet, then my hand before training his sea-colored eyes on mine. I stared right back. I wanted him to see from my eyes that I was not bluffing, that there was pure truth in their milk-white depths. He glanced once more at the hand on the hilt of the curved sword at my waist before looking back at me, shocking me to the core when he began, well laughing.

"Divines help me!" he guffawed. "If you aren't exactly as Jarsha said! You have some spirit, lass. At least we know you won't be boring." This tickled him all the more, his uproarious laughter earning him strange looks from passersby. "Now, if you'll just follow me."

I desperately clutched his chest, pulling him back to face me, my mind reeling and eyes wild.

"Brynjolf," I pleaded. "I don't want to join the Thieves Guild, please. Please, you don't know what this means, I just need my brother. I just need to find Jarsha!"

I realized too late that this man's breathing had quickened beneath my fingertips, his pulse hammering hard. Slowly, he looked from my hands against his chest to my eyes with a dark look.

And not of hatred.

I dropped my hands immediately, and he took a steadying breath.

"If you're looking for Jarsha, all I can say is get in line."

"What?"

"You're not the only one he disappeared on, lass, he's been missing three months now."

"What?" I sat down on a nearby bench, my eyes wide, my mind racing, unable to piece together a coherent thought.

Jarsha'smissingjarshasmissingjarshasmissingjarshasmissingnonononononononono.

"Lass!" I jolted back to attention to see a big, calloused hand waving before my face. "Don't do that!"

"When you say missing-"

"Don't do that, either," he said tiredly, and took the seat beside me. "Look, lass. Your brother is a practiced man. Cunning. Experienced. Tricky. But also fickle. If anything, he got bored of the Guild, went on to bigger and better things. I wouldn't fret." He immediately saw the offense in my face, and cut off my reproach. "Well, fuck me, I don't know how to do this! At least I'm trying."

"I'm his sister," I bristled. "I am supposed to fret."

"Fine, damn you, fret all you like, what do I care."

There was silence then, and it was awkward, so I tried to stop it.

"Well, what's this job you mentioned?" I asked. 'If it'll get me closer to finding. . .what?"

I turned to find those eyes staring at me in amusement, making me lose my whole thought pattern.

"Nothing, just. . .you have his look about you. Granted, your eyes. . .are different, shall we say. But you've his look." His gaze focused on my lips. "Fortunately for me, that's where your likeness ends."

"Br. . .Brynjolf. . ?"

"It's that mouth," he continued, "That mouth and then the jawline, and the cheekbone, just. . ."

My breath hitched as his eyes drifted lower.

". . .beautiful." Finally self-conscious, I crossed my arms before my chest. "Yeah, ain't nothing of Jarsha's there," he chuckled. The shock of blue returned to meet my gaze. "I've half a mind to take down that hood of yours." My heart was beating in my throat. "See that neck, the collarbone. No one pays much attention, but to me-"

"Stop," I commanded. or at least tried to. My voice came out much weaker than I'd expected.

He flicked his gaze unabashedly over me once more before fixing me with a predatory look and stepping away from the bench.

"My apologies, lass," he said, grinning sardonically. "I assure you, it was not my intention to offend you in any way."

"Then enlighten me please," I grunted, "What was your intention?"

"To please, of course," he smiled. I swallowed hard. "I'll give you the details of the job sometime soon. After that, it's up to you to prove yourself."

"Can you please just tell me now?"

"I can't, I'm afraid. I feel you've had enough of my talking."

"I was talking," I argued. "You were. . .staring."

"Well, then let me apologize again," he smirked. "It also isn't my intention to stare."

He gaze fell to my lips, which I promptly sucked up into my mouth, winning a bemused look from him. Damn, did I need to leave.

"Good day," I said brusquely, striding off.

"Good night, lass," he drawled after me.


	3. Chapter 3: Reflection

"Beautiful. . ?"

I tried it in my own mouth, but it still turned out as a question.

I had never been called beautiful before; words like that were always reserved for Paia. To the boys we had always clung to, I was always just that- another boy. I never understood what was so wonderful about being treated as some shiny new toy. But, now. . .

I looked deeper into the murky water, its lack of clarity providing a perfect mirror for me.

Where Paia was plump and short and dark, I was lithe and tall and light. My mother used to say my skin was like golden amale- sweet, sweet cream and just a little coffee. My father used to call it caramel, like on the apples in the summer holidays. That earned me the nickname of " Applehead" when I was six, and silly, and trying to convince our playmates that I was pretty, the way my parents had convinced me.

Apart from that, my cheekbones were high, with sharp angles that brought attention to my pale eyes. Under those eyes was my usual war paint, a series of black dots along my cheekbone. My head was bald along the sides, with a crop of short, thick, reddish-brown dreadlocks making up a mohawk from the peak of my forehead to the nape of my neck.

My eyebrows has a bit of a natural arch and my nose held a perfect slope. Once, I'd prided myself on being the only child our age to not have broken it. But pretty? I looked closer, at the lips Brynjolf had enjoyed so very much.

My warpaint was complete with their being painted black, with a black line trailing down my chin.

Beautiful? I looked exactly like what I was. And warriors aren't particularly known for their looks, are they? I gazed back into the surface of the water.

"Beautiful. . ."

"Just when did you get so vain?" Paia laughed.

I leapt up from my perch on the lower level decks of the river city.

"Damn you, Paia, don't do that!"

"You didn't answer me," she grinned.

"I'm not vain," I said defensively, "Just. . ."

"Well?" she teased. "Just what?"

"Just. . .curious."

Paia paused and cocked her head at me.

"You are beautiful, Rontu," she said. "Don't ever doubt it."

I rubbed the back of my neck, my face burning.

"Well to hear you say it. . ."

"Sorry," she giggled. "I never meant to embarrass you."

We returned to the Bee and Barb after running a few more errands. We noted the vendors and matched their names with their wares. We visited the shop of a man called Bersi Honey-Hand and surprise of surprises, we visited the Sept of Mara, goddess of love and marriage.

Don't get me wrong, I realized it was doubtful in my case. But, I purchased her amulet all the same, tucking it safely away beneath my gear.

A husband after my brothers, maybe.

"You Rontu O'Naharis?"

I paused in my musings.

"No."

The three askers recoiled as if they'd been slapped and no doubt checked amongst themselves that I did indeed fit the provided description.

"Yes you are," the forefront one accused. "Why'd you lie?"

"Well, if you knew who I was, then why did you ask?"

They stared in disbelief.

"Nevermind," I sighed. "What does the Black-Briar want of me?"

"How?"

This was Maven's first question to me when I entered her rooms in the Black-Briar estate. "How did you know if was me asking for you?"

"You've a monopoly on power in this city, Maven," I replied, peeling back my hood. "Really, who else would be requesting my presence with an honor guard?"

"Point taken." Maven Black-Briar took the seat at the head of the table, and gestured for me to sit beside her, so I did. "Now. Jarsha."

I forced my face to remain calm. Jarsha was my only weakness, besides Adji. I wouldn't just give it away to her.

"What about him?"

Her black eyes searched mine coolly; she smirked.

"Not bad at all. Brynjolf was right."

At that name, I did flinch, but I wasn't sure if she'd caught that.

"Right about what?"

"That poker face of yours," she said. "It gives nothing away that you don't want given away; you'd be a great addition to the Guild."

"Well, if Brynjolf managed to tell you all of that, then he must have informed you that I have no intention of joining the Guild," I said decisively. "My life is in the west."

"Oh?" he said, seeming surprised . "And what, pray tell, is there for you?"

"My land," I replied. "I intend to make a steading after I claim my family, as I no longer belong anywhere else."

"Ah, yes," she mused. "That mess with the Aldmeri Dominion. Well, you always could belong with us. The offer still stands."

"Then I hope its legs don't go to sleep."

A low, rumbling laughter sounded from behind me. I whirled around to face a tall, thin man of auburn hair and beard with grey eyes. He wore a masked expression on his weathered face and he wore the Thieves armor as proudly as Brynjolf and my brother.

"And who are you?"

"A fan," he grinned. "That's some sarcasm you got there. But all jokes aside." He stepped further into the light. "My name is Mercer Frey. I am the Guildmaster of the Thieves."

"Well, no offense but you can still forget it," I shrugged. "I lead myself. The Dark Brotherhood took one brother. Your Guild, another. It isn't taking me."

"Spirited," he nodded. "Brynjolf warned me about that. Best be careful girl," he chuckled. "He likes the feisty ones."

"I'll take my chances, I just mean to find Jarsha."

"Well, helping us is what's standing in your way."

"I won't join you," I cautioned.

"You won't join us," he confirmed.

I was visibly relieved.

"What must I do?"

"Bryn'll come by with a task to prove you're not a complete waste of my time. Then, we'll need you for a few other things if you pass."

"A quiz, some tests and then Jarsha."

"Just so."

"Fine," I nodded. "I accept."

"Wonderful," Frey said, dropping his hood over his eyes. "Brynjolf will be by around midnight."

"He won't wake me," I assured him.

"It's him putting you to bed that's the trouble," he sneered.

"Don't treat me as some forgone conclusion, Frey: I can still say no."

"And don't treat me as some bleeding heart, girl: I can still say no."

With that, Frey vanished, leaving me with the Black-Briar woman.

"You'll do well to learn to hold your tongue, Rontu O'Naharis," she warned. "You very well may need him more than he needs you."

"It'll be a cold day in hell when I cater to Mercer Frey," I said coolly. "Or anyone, for that matter."

"You'll check yourself when you speak to me, Redguard."

"Maybe, when you've found my brother. Until then, I'll speak however I please. You said it yourself after all," I grinned. "I may need Mercer Frey and he might need me, but of the two of us, it's only him that still needs you."

"Out of my sight," she hissed.

"As you wish," I smiled.

I left the Black-Briar estate and headed out the back, as Maven hadn't wanted prying eyes to gauge our relation. Just as I neared the cemetery, there was the muted grinding of stone against stone and out of a white marble tomb, before my waking eyes, strolled Brynjolf. He came forward, and from my position alongside of the tomb, I had him unawares. But, here wa a thief, and those see and feel and hear differently than others.

He visibly tensed before turning around to see me.

"Hello there, lass," he said with a lopsided grin. "Was just coming to see you."

"Likewise," I replied warily. This caused him to grin wider, as he sauntered towards me.

"Was also just thinking about you." My tongue thickened in my mouth, preventing me from speaking. He paused, cokcing his head to the side, blue eyes as sinful as the rest of him. "Your hood is down," he informed me.

My hands flew instinctively to the top of my head and sure enough, my mohawk of short, choppy links was revealed to the world. I panicked, searching all over my shoulders and neck, stopping short when I found the sky blue cloth and frantically tried to fold it properly around my face.

"Don't be wary of me; I don't-" he cut himself off, laughing.

"What? Weren't you supposed to say 'bite'?"

"Yes," he grinned. "But I didn't want to lie this early on in our relationship."

"Pig," I snarled.

"And you like that," he smiled. "You don't know why, but you like that."

"Listen, my priority here is my brother. I have no time for anything else."

"Make time," he shrugged. "Jarsha, he'll understand."

I sighed, exasperated; I couldn't talk to him like this anymore. It wasn't productively, and it wasn't good for either my nerves, or my heart. So, I fumed and turned to head back to the Bee and Barb.

"Where are you going?"

"Away. I mean, I'd love to hear about the plan you and Mercer Frey have for me, and all, but if you'd rather waste my time, then-"

"Fine, fine, fine. Talos help me, lass, you and them barbed words." He leaned back against the tomb and crossed his arms. "Need you to steal a ruby ring from Medesi, in the square."

"Sounds simple en-"

"At high noon, in broad daylight."

"What in he- how am I supposed to-"

"Not my problem, lass. Just take the ring and plant i in Brand-Shei's pocket. If you're Jarsha's sister, and if those eyes of yours are any good, then you'll be fine," he lifted his chin. "Right, Segen?"

I whirled around and pressed my forearm against his throat.

"What do you know about me? Huh?" I hissed. "What do you know of how I've lived, what I've seen and done? Don't you speak as if you know me. What gives you the right?"

"The real question, lass, is what made your dear Jarsha tell me so much."

I seethed, pressing my forearm against his throat once more before pulling away.

"You're a bastard."

"I don't mean to be," he said quietly. "Listen lass, be careful. I never meant to push you, so just. . .just keep a clear head. I want you to trust me. I promised him-"

"Jarsha."

He nodded.

"I told him I would watch out for you; he knew you'd come. I don't want to break my word."

"Have it your own way, just stay out of mine," I sighed. "The task will be completed."

"Be careful," he repeated. "Be careful, Rontu."

I walked as quickly as I could away.

It was the first time he had used my name.

I had just managed to make it out of the courtyard, when I heard this little whistle: one piercingly high note, and one sorrowfully low. There's no way, I thought to myself, there's no way. I kept walking. When it sounded again, I couldn't help myself, and I whirled around to face him.

"Jarsha," I breathed.

Just as tall, just as dear, just as there as I remembered.

"Stop digging," he whispered.

I couldn't believe my eyes, and I blinked.

And from that moment to the next, he had disappeared, leaving me more alone than when he first had.


	4. Chapter 4: Family

_Steady. . .steady. . .now._

As the crowd pushed together more and more, riled and bristled by Brynjolf's spiel, I sidled up against Brand-Shei, and slipped Medesi's ruby ring into his pocket. I was feeling the familiar rush of blood, the adrenaline pounding through my veins; I can hardly be blamed for what happened next: I brushed my lips against the back of his neck before sliding away.

What can I say? Old habits die hard.

"Did you do it?" Paia wanted to know, pushing off the wall of the cemetery to meet me.

"Yeah," I sighed. "That and more," I added in a smaller voice.

"What do you mean?"

"The. . .the mark, the man I planted the ring on, I. . ." Realization struck her like lightning.

"You counted coup!?"

"Keep your voice down!"

"You counted coup?"

"Please, let's just talk about it later," I pleaded.

"No, we need to have this out now," she argued. "Rontu, you-"

"-were absolutely amazing, if I do say so myself."

We turned to see Mercer Frey clapping as he approached us, a less jovial, and somewhat suspicion-filled Brynjolf was solemn and silent at his side.

"Job well done, O'Naharis, job well done."

"What's next?"

"Next?" Mercer paused and cast a sly glance in Brynjolf's direction. "Next. . .we meet our family."

"Your family," I amended.

"Yes, of course. My family."

He turned into the crypt and I gestured to Paia that it was alright to follow. I began to pass Brynjolf to drop down myself when he stopped me.

"What was that?" he demanded.

"What was what?"

"The kiss, the one on the back of Brand-Shei's neck."

_He saw that?_

"That's. . .none of your business."

"You are my business, lass."

"Oh, because of some horseshit arrangement between you and my brother?"

"Damn you, and damn him, I have my own reasons."

"Oh?" I mocked.

"Yes, 'Oh'," he fumed. "You'll be screaming a lot of 'Oh's when I'm in between your legs and trying to blast a hole into forever."

My mouth dropped open, and I opened and closed it like a fish out of water.

"Don't speak to me like that."

"Like what? I'm to fake like I'm not interested? Well, I am. As are you, from what I gather. So forget whatever's in that little fucked-up head of yours,lass: there's nothing you want that I can't give you, and there's nothing you have that I don't want a piece of. And I mean to have many."

"What gives you the right?" I finally managed to say.

"I thought I just told you," he groused, walking down the steps of the tomb, "You are my business."

I had belonged to men before; that was nothing new.

I was Father's hellion. Adji's pet. Jarsha's confidant. But I had never been anybody's business before. And that scared me, especially since despite being so new to me, I was not repulsed by the title. Brynjolf's Business. I shook my head to empty it; returning to my Black-Briar mead at a table in the Ragged Flagon of the Ratway. A thieve's pub, yes, but a pub all the same.

It was here that I was introduced to the other thieves in the Ratway, and here that I was getting my fill of Brynjolf's sexual exploits.

"So, yeah," smirked Vex, lockpicker extraordinaire, "There's been Sapphire,that girl, Mina, another Breton whose name has completely escaped me. . .oh! It was Olga. Then, there was. . ."

I had tuned out near the beginning of her list, something about her brightened eyes having told me it would be long. I did what I always did to lose myself in my thoughts: sharpened Father's Will. I needed to prioritize my thinking, especially after last night;s vision. It had to have been a vision, right? But, it seemed so real. . .I shook myself out of it. Alright, so maybe I'd have an even bigger headache thinking of Jarsha than I would thinking of Brynjolf. I shook myself again. Well maybe just the Guild.

I stopped work on the longsword and took inventory of the room.

One big, bad and bald character who'd been introduced as Delvin, a Breton thief with kind, dark eyes and wise was a master of sneaking, and had been with the Guild for a long enough time to remember its glory days. There was Dirge, a coarser fellow and food broker who was prone to snap at any time, especially at new blood, which meant especially Endell was a much kinder member, and an incredible archer with a great sense of humor. He spent much of his time with another archer, the Bosmer Niruin, who matched Cynric for wit. Paia took to him for their mutual hatred of Skyrim wine. There was also Rune, an Imperial man who had grown up without his true past, and given his name for a rune that was found on his person in a shipwreck when he was a boy. Sapphire was, to me, the female version of Dirge only coarser, if possible. She had a rough upbringing that somewhat explained it, but once you got past that hard shell, she was pretty alright. Another good man was Thrynn, once a Nordic bandit who fell out with his chief over killing women and children. Not to be forgotten was Vipir the Fleet who'd earned his nickname running all the way from Windhelm to Riften after a botched job after forgetting his horse. He also had a soft spot for Sapphire, though she always ignored him. Vekel the Man owned and tended bar at the Ragged Flagon, and was rivaled only by Brynjolf in terms of his good looks. And then, there was-

I cut off my thoughts as my eyes met those of another Redguard woman , glaring at me from her seat at the bar. Vex named another name, and the woman across the room mumbled something under her breath. And that was all I was going to take from her.

"What?" I called before I could stop myself. "Did you say something?"

She looked at me, and at everyone near the bar, shocked at my challenge.

"I said, 'You don't belong here, little girl'."

"'Little girl'," I repeated, grinning and shaking my head.

"What? Don't like that?"

"Well, of course I do," I smirked, while unsheathing my dirk. "Just thinking of where to carve it on your corpse."

"I do like to see little children play with knives."

"Keep going and you'll see it again- this close," I said dangerously, waving the big knife back and forth in front of my face. The woman pursed her lips as if to dare me. "What, did you want a kiss, too?"

"You couldn't handle it," she sneered.

"There's only one way to find out," I grinned leaning forward.

It was dead silent in the Flagon then, all the members of the Guild holding their breath, watching me and the other woman. It was in this silence that Mercer and Brynjolf found us.

"What in hell is going on here?" Mercer growled, his footsteps echoing throughout the cistern. "It hasn't ever been this quiet in here since the beginning of the Guild."

"It's the new blood, Mercer," Delvin grinned. "She just taught Tonilia that she isn't exactly toothless."

"Fuck off, Delvin," she snarled. "She doesn't want to play."

I stabbed my dirk into the table.

"Had about enough of that."

"Listen, little girl, I don't care if you are Jarsha's sister-"

"And I don't care who you are, period," I shrugged. "Whatever the hell that was, your animosity is unnecessary- I've done nothing to you. I'm not here because I want to be; I'm not even here because I have to be. So your words are wasted on me."

"It's true," Mercer said. "It's all true, Tonilia; she's done nothing to earn your hate. Stand down and stop this nonsense."

Tonilia shot him a look, her face contorted in rage before fixing a new look of desperation on. . .Brynjolf. I watched as he gave her the barest shake of his head with a cold look in his eye, and she screeched, knocking past the bemused archers, Cynric and Niruin, with Vekel the Man hot on her heels.

"And that's Tonilia," Vex continued in a more hushed tone. "She's been with Brynjolf most every night, before you came along, even though Vekel's her man."

"If she's with Vekel, then why-"

"Because it's Brynjolf," she replied, as if that was answer enough.

And, maybe it was.

_"Segen! Get Ninneh out now!"_

_"Baba, no! Not without you!"_

_"Do as I say!"_

_"This is your first link, Segen. May it be the beginning of a long chain. Body, Heart, Soul."_

_"Body, Heart, Soul."_

_"Ninneh, I can't do this anymore! It's my soul."_

_"Segen, Adji is gone. Jarsha is gone. You are all he has left."_

_"But it's my soul!"_

_"Of course it is, silly. A few tattoos won't change that."_

"They did though," I whispered to the darkness.

Paia and I had moved our things from the Bee and Barb to the cistern; we were now living amongst the Thieves. Mercer promised no more outbursts at me from Tonilia, but I knew it was never about me. Brynjolf had fixed me with this look before we left for our things, one that told me all I needed to know. What else should I have expected from him?

"Rontu?" Paia called, responding to my hoarse whisper.

"Nothing. Go to sleep."

"Is that all you know to say to me now, Rontu? Nothing,and Go to sleep. We're more than that." I could not respond. "_Segen_."

"Don't call me that, Paia, not here," I hissed. "I can't be that here."

"Why? Because it's so easy?"

"Yes," I admitted quietly, "And, no."

Paia sighed,

"It's been almost a year now, Rontu," she said. "You have to let go."

"I can't!" I said, wetting my lips. "He's- they're written all over, Paia, all over me!"

"The Ebon Chain is gone, Rontu," she assured, clutching my hand. "Those stains are all that's left."

"And that's my fault, too," I whimpered. "Baba. Mana. Even Shazaa, as much as I hated him. The whole of Barak-dur - gone. Because of me."

"You've been blaming yourself this whole time!?" she gasped, sitting up. "Segen; this was not your fault. You know what is? The fact that you're alive. The fact that I'm alive. You saved us."

"I will never have a future, Paia. Only with you and my brothers, only you. You're all I have!"

"They say-" she paused. "Nevermind. I don't know why I was going to say that."

"They say what, Paia?" My palms moistened, and there was no response. "Ninneh!"

She sighed.

"They say. . .They say that He's alive. And that he looks for you still. That he's come to this land and seeks us."

"Shazaa?"

She gave a tight nod.

"He will find us," I muttered. "He will marry you, and kill me."

"Shazaa never wanted me," Paia said, appalled. "It was you he was always after." She paused. "You're blaming that on yourself, too, now aren't you?"

"Maybe."

"Well, cut it out," she said drily. "He won't take either of us. I won't let him."

"No, Ninneh. We won't let him."I said, squeezing her hand.

That is how we fell asleep.

But, I woke to something else.

A second heartbeat thrummed against my cheek, but it was not Paia's. Its breast was flat and hard. And muscled. And warm. And tight. And-

"What in hell!"

I leapt out of bed, dragging a pillow along behind me and whirled around to face Brynjolf.

"WHAT are you DOING!?"

"Minding my business," he replied cheekily, lacing his fingers behind his head.

Now that there was some distance between us, I could get a better look at him.

The sun slipped through the cracks of the false sewer drain, caging both our bodies in stripes of light and dark. And that body.

His broad shoulders tapered down to a broad chest, which moved up and down with his every breath. From there, the dip in his collarbone became an arrow, pointing down the line the bisected his abdominal muscles. All six of them. Along his hips was the deep, suggestive V that promised so much and more, and everything below it was under the sheets of the bed, though not much was left to imagination-

"Enjoying the view, lass?"

_Damnit._

"What are you doing in-"

"My room?" he finished. "Isn't that my question?"

"Your. . ." I glanced around and cast my eyes down in shame. "Oh." I made a move to bit my lower lip as well, but that deep voice cut through me like a knife.

"Don't do that, lass," he warned huskily. "It'll undo me. And that's no good, because I'll undo you."

I squeezed my legs together.

His blue eyes darkened.

"Wh. . ." I tried again, "Which way is the cistern?"

"What? I thought we were getting somewhere?" I leaned back against the door, eyes wide. He flopped back down on his bed, laughing. "Fine. I won't devour you. This time. You're down the hall, last left. There's three beds before yours."

"Thank you." I reached for the door, but paused. "Uh. . .did I. . ?"

"No," he said, eyes now more serious. "No. I brought you here. Came in late last night and heard you. . ."

"Heard me what?"

"Crying."

Heat flooded my face. I hadn't cried in years. And to think I had done it unconsciously. . .

"I just figured, since my room is private. . ."

"Thank you," I said again, swinging open the door. "Thank you, Brynjolf."

I wasn't far enough away to miss his response.

"It wasn't the first time."

I reversed direction, re entered his room, and shut the door behind me.

"What?"

"I was just saying, it wasn't the first time I. . .I dunno, seen something of you that I probably shouldn't have."

I blinked.

"If you're saying you've seen me naked-"

"No! Nothing like that!" His face flushed. "Just. . .I saw you, the other day. At the water. You were looking at yourself. . ."

If it wasn't heated before, my face was now on fire.

"Wha- I- How. . .How much did you hear?"

"Enough," he said. "Enough to know that the men of Hegathe are blind. Rontu, if you're ever in doubt, don't hesitate to see me. It's no sin to say a woman is beautiful, when it's true."

I had no words to respond.

And so, I simply left.


	5. Chapter 5: Beginnings

**Yoohoo! Chapter Five is up and running, folks! Thanks so much for everyone who left a review, and I'm excited that you're excited about the latest twists concerning Rontu, Paia, Brynjolf and especially Jarsha. I can promise you that there are much more to come; this series is FAR from over. Don't be shy! Say what you like! And I hope you enjoy the latest installment!**

I was trading jokes with Cynric, Niruin, Rune and Paia early one morning as we broke fast. Despite cautioning her to not become too attached, I was jumping right into the mix alongside Paia. I needed to get a hold on both of us; this relationship with the Guild was supposed to be temporary, and yet. . .it didn't feel temporary. Any of it. It felt like home.

It felt like home, and I needed to shake that feeling off of myself.

"Hey! Hey, Toothless!" I blinked and gave my full attention to Rune. He grinned, "There you are!"

"Oh, shut up," I laughed, punching him in the arm.

"Hey, you're the one who checked out." He pulled on my arm. "Come and judge the pissing contest."

"Um. . .the what?"

"The pissing contest," he said again, smirking. "It's just Cynric and Niruin talking shit and then trying to prove to everyone else who the better archer is. But you get to decide this time around."

"Sounds like quite the spectacle."

"It is, believe me," Mercer called out as he approached us. "A spectacle that will have to wait, unfortunately. I got a job for you, on the Goldenglow Estate."

"A heist?" I tried to keep the hopefulness out of my voice.

"No, sabotage." He produced a letter. "Apparently, Aringoth decided to cheat us and Maven out of our cut from his income. It seems he's taken up with someone else behind our backs. Bastard had the nerve to hire some extra muscle as well." He shook his head. "That didn't suit well with us, if you can imagine, and now that he's putting me into a tight spot, I'm switching places with you."

"Me?" I asked doubtfully.

Mercer grinned, "Yes, you, Toothless. You're going in with Brynjolf. But be clear: he's there to watch you work, not to help. I need you to find out who he's with; check out the lock box in his cellar. You're not to kill anyone except maybe Aringoth. If you get that urge, then, hell, go with it. Consider this your next test."

"Right," I said. "Thank you."

He gave an airy wave as parting and stalked back towards his rooms.

"Look who's moving up in the ranks!" Niruin cheered, clapping me on the shoulder. "Congratulations, Toothless."

"Oh, no, I'm not-"

I stalled my tongue before I could say something stupid, like how I wasn't actually in the Guild, and that I didn't want to have a family with them, and that I was only doing this to find my brother, get some coin and leave. And it wasn't so much that I didn't want to tell them because it would hurt them; I didn't want to tell them any of that because it just wasn't true.

"Not what?"

"Nothing," I grinned. "I'm just not so sure that I'm moving up so much as just scraping by."

_Oh, nice, why don't we just drop telling the truth for telling a lie that makes me look like a fucking kiss ass._

None of the others seemed to notice, though.

"Nah, you're handling business, no doubt. And, it's about damn time."

"Yeah. If you weren't doing shit around here, then we definitely wouldn't have time to joke around," Cynric laughed. "The only other person who does as much for us as Mercer is- oh, hey Bryn! We were just talking about you."

He was calling over my shoulder, and I did my damnedest not to turn around.

Instead, I let myself feel his movement, and hear his footsteps echoing throughout the hideout. I could feel his presence up until it stopped short right behind me.

"All good things, I hope." There was a pause. "Are you ready for the hit on Goldenglow?"

"Oh, you don't need to worry about our Toothless; she knows what's what."

"Oh, does she?"

"Yeah. She's had me guiding her through it all. You know how it is."

I could tell Brynjolf was sending him a murderous look even without turning around.

"Cynric. That was me subtly asking you to leave."

"Oh," Cynric said, somewhat surprised. "Sorry."

"Cynric. This is me not-so-subtly asking you to leave."

"Right. Sorry." Cynric turned to me, a lopsided grin on his face. "It'd seem that Master Bryn here, of the imperial Ragged Flagon in the oh-so-fabulous Ratway Kingdom is not-so-subtly monopolizing your time. Later, Toothless."

"Goodbye, Cyn."

As he strolled off, I turned to face Brynjolf, staring at me with a dubious expression.

"Toothless?"

"From what Delvin said the other day," I smiled. "It just stuck."

"No, no, I kind of like it," he smiled, preparing to take a drink of his mead. "It fits you."

"I was thinking," I started, and cleared my throat. "I was thinking that we should do the hit tonight."

He started sputtering and coughing, giving me an incredulous look when he stopped.

"I just got back from a heist!" he complained. "D'you want to kill me, lass? Or yourself for that matter?"

"I know, I'm sorry, I just. . .don't want to wait."

"Well. . .alright then," he sighed. "I'll leave now to get a good spot so I can watch you work."

"When I arrive, how will you know me?"

Brynjolf laughed humorlessly, fixing me with those steady, blue eyes.

"Lass. . .even if it was by your shadow, I would know you."

Even now, I've no response for that.

The storm started early in the afternoon, and had not stopped by the time I reached the shores in the woods near Riften. It was the middle of the night and pitch black. Dark, billowing clouds gathered in the sky, thunder their tantrum and lightning their protest. I had been sitting in that same spot for about two hours, marking how the guards changed post and how often, waiting for my cue. I changed up my position once more to keep my legs from going to sleep, my pale gaze shifting left and then right before I found what I was looking for.

Across the lake, in the darkness, three burning lights came into view, travelling across the island. To me, this signaled the changing of the guard, and my cue.

I stood and pulled the Thieves Guild hood over my eyes and stepped into the waters. Once up to my throat, I sucked in a deep breath and fully submerged. Vex had informed me earlier of a secret passageway of sorts; a sewer line beneath the Estate on the northwest side of the island. I would get to it, and infiltrate the manor, avoiding the mercenaries outside.

It was three minutes of swimming later that I sat beneath the surface of the water, waiting for these two mercs, one relieving the other of his post, to walk away from each other, and give me their backs. Just beyond them lay the entrance to the sewer, and once they separated, I would have a clear shot. Slowly, I raised my eyes above the water, and crawled through the shallows until I lay partially on the banks. I moved at a snail's pace to get me body completely out before going for it, in order to not make any noise.

_Now._

I shot forward from the water, and came directly to the sewer door, pulling it open slowly, because I didn't know whether it squeaked or not. I hoisted myself inside, and shut the door behind me.

Phase one was complete.

Once inside, I crept down the pipeline, making quick work of two unsuspecting Skeevers with my hunting bow.

As confident as I was, I felt like something was behind me, but no matter how many times I turned around, I saw no disturbance. I shook myself out of it and refocused.

Further along, I was choked with the smell of oil, and realized I was standing in it. I found a tripwire, and knew that it had to trigger a flame trap. I tried to move to go back, but my footsteps made sticky, shucking noises that began to attract more Skeever up ahead. Seeing no other way, I reached out, and pulled the wire, causing the end of the hall to burst into flames while I hauled ass to escape the inferno as it consumed the vermin. That done, I clambered up the ladder at the end of the hall.

Cautiously, I opened the hatch above me, and peered all around me before exiting. The storm still raged on, there were no guards around, and the front door to the manor was beside me, just as Vex promised. Checking the left and right of me once more, I stooped low and pulled out my lock picks, applying them to the door.

It opened for me, and I stole inside.

There was no one in the main hall, so I knew immediately that they'd be centered around the basement, which I knew I had to get to in order prove Aringoth's guiltiness and find out who he was newly connected to. I crept around and heard some of the mercs talking down the corridor, so, after finding a hall closet, I picked out a bowl and threw it down by the entryway.

The air felt incredibly close in that closet, and I still felt like something was there, just out of reach. Once more, I shook it off.

The mercs sprang up, noisy and careless, clambering down the hall and right past my hiding place. So great was the sound of their own voices and armor and movement, that they didn't notice me as I slipped out of the closet and down into the basement. I couldn't have planned it better myself.

Oh, wait.

To get past the guards in the basement, I used an invisibility potion, and sneaked right past into the sub-basement. There was only one guard here, and I tormented him with paranoia until he didn't notice me slip the key from his pocket and sneak into the cellar.

That was where I robbed Aringoth blind, deaf and dumb of 150 gold and a. . .a bill of sale?

My eyes narrowed.

_He sold the Goldenglow Estate? But to whom? And why?_

Those were the main questions running through my mind; I knew Mercer would be intrigued. I swiped everything from another chest in the cellar before finding another entrance back into the sewers.

"Perfect," I whispered to myself.

I followed the pipeline to a hole, which I dropped down into, and it brought me full circle to the hatch I had entered from. As happy I was to be breathing clean air, my work still was not over. I swam to the island that housed the beehives themselves and scaled the jagged rock cliff.

"There you are," I smiled, and took down a torch from its post before lighting the middle three hives on fire. "I'm sorry. I know how you feel," I told the bees.

Raised voices sounded behind me, and I knew I had to go. I sprinted past the hives, and dove into water, the crash of thunder muting my splash. From there, I swam back to the shore near Riften, and hauled myself up onto the banks, panting heavily before turning to admire my handiwork.

Three ribbon dancers of smoke trailed up to the stormy sky as the inhabitants of Goldenglow shouted and searched for a presence that was no longer there.

My brothers would have been proud.

I felt someone behind me then, I whirled around to face them.

"Brynjolf?"

"She was amazing- simply amazing, Mercer! There's no other word for it."

I tried my damnedest to stay impassive, but my face heated under Brynjolf's word. We were all seated around the Flagon, Brynjolf speaking animatedly as he relayed my heist to the Guild. I was just happy he elected to leave out our meeting on the beach.

We sat together in complete silence, staring off at the blaze across the lake.

"Thank you," he said after some time. "You've saved the Guild." His gloved hand found mine in the dark. "Thank you."

"Will you tell me where you were watching from?"

"By you," he said, grinning sheepishly. "The entire time."

"I knew I felt someone!"

"That you did, lass," he said. "In the sewer-that was very clever, by the way- and then, in the closet-I thought for sure you'd catch me then- I was with you."

"I knew," I laughed. But then, my words turned into something else. "I know," I said softly.

I was silent and watched him; he was silent and watched me.

And it was then that I figured him out: a charlatan, yes. A rogue, most definitely. But beneath it all, Brynjolf was so much more. He was a family man, the provider and protector of the Guild. Despite its reputation, the Guild wasn't a collection of evil people; it was an orphanage for broken ones They were toys and he was a toy maker and he was mending them. The Guild was his first thought in the morning and his last before shutting his eyes at night. Regardless of being a "bad man", he was a good one.

I smiled softly to myself; that was important.

Good men are underrated- they aren't something that remained constant in my life. Adji disappeared. Jarsha disappeared. Baba had gone the warrior's way. And even Shazaa. . .

I shuddered.

There are no men like good men.

"You. . .you aren't new to this. . .are you?"

I tuned out of my musings to find the Guild all staring at me. Tonilia was the one who raise the question, looking more curious than accusatory. _Well. It was going to have to end sometime._

"No. I'm not.

The whole of the Ragged Flagon seemed to suck in a breath at my admission.

"Where did you say you were from, Toothless?" Mercer asked with a knowing smirk.

"Hegathe."

"Ah. And your surname is O'Naharis. . .hm. That should've clicked with Jarsha."

"What?" Brynjolf asked impatiently. "Damn you, Frey, what should have clicked?"

"Brothers and Sisters," Mercer called, after clearing his throat, that grin of his even wider. "It would seem that a Link from the Ebon Chain of Barak-dur graces our presence."

"No way," gaped Rune. "You're with the Chain?"

"How many links have you got?"

"I thought them a rumor. . ."

"We weren't," I sighed. "My father was Raigatz O'Naharis, the master of our. . .Guild, I guess you'd call it. I was trained to be a Link from age six, and I'm twenty-two now. I haven't had a link tattooed on me since I was seventeen."

"By the Nine," whispered Brynjolf. "Your chain could be anywhere." He frowned. "Then that kiss. . ."

"Old habits, sorry."

"The Ebon Chain's Links were famed to kiss the marks, they'd be so close to them. Right here," Mercer brushed the back of his neck with his fingers. "It was a testament to their bravery, competence and ridiculous stealth. They called it counting coup."

"Well, I'll be damned," Delvin chuckled. "And you let me think you were some blasted newbie this whole entire time."

"We weren't sure if we could trust you," I explained, glancing at Paia.

"What, you too?" Mercer asked with raised brows.

She merely grinned.

"Well, what made you change your mind," Brynjolf wanted to know.

I passed him a look that said, You, and he passed me one back that said I'm going to devour you.

"We realized that your Guild is truly a family. A home," Paia said. "And, if you know about Hegathe and Barak-dur, well, then you know we haven't got it."

"I think I speak on behalf of the Guild when I say we'd be proud to have you," Mercer smiled.

"We'd like that," I smiled, as my eyes met Brynjolf's. "We'd like that a lot."


	6. Chapter 6: Fallout

**HAPPY THANKSGIVING! And in the spirit of Christmas (what?) here's chapter six. And while this installment does mention "family"(I won't lie, it does), it isn't exactly "happy family". You'll see what I mean. I can't say you'll enjoy it, but I do hope you'll be interested. Look forward to the reviews!**

"DAMNIT! DAMNIT TO HELL!"

I was sitting on top of a chest chatting in the archery training hall with Rune and Vex when Mercer's shouting seemed to make the Ratway tremble. I traded glances with them, and we wordlessly dropped everything and sprinted into the cistern. Across from us, Mercer sat at his desk, head in his hands. Brynjolf was wearing a scowl I had never seen on him before as he walked towards us briskly.

"Bryn, what-"

He didn't even look at me, just pushed past.

Vex's eyes and mine fixed on each other. This was not the Brynjolf I had come to know. There was no way he would just stiff me without reason.

In the past few months after Goldenglow, we'd become nearly inseparable, he and I. Paia and the others would go to sleep, but I would wait for Brynjolf's return and we would talk into the wee hours of the morning. We would go on a walk, or sit in his rooms, or go out to eat. All that matter was that he was there, and that we were together.

Once, we were walking through the Ratway Vaults, and I told him about seeing the apparition of Jarsha. It disheartened him.

"Perhaps it's a sign," he said, looking down into the Vaults. He stood before me, leaning against the bars of one of the halls, and I sat in a chair we'd found. "Perhaps this is him telling you not to stay."

"Why would he want that?"

"Let's be honest, Rontu; I don't want you to leave," he said, meeting my eyes finally. "But I've held out on being selfish long enough. You have to move on."

"What?" I breathed. "But everything is so much better now. I thought we were. . ."

"We are!" he said quickly, analyzing his words in his mind. "No, Rontu, gods, no. I didn't mean it like that, just. . ." he shook his head. "It's just, you came here for something. And I couldn't say that I cared about you unless I told you to go after him."

"Brynjolf. . ."

He was right. I had forgotten my purpose in coming to Skyrim. I had to find my brother.

"But that doesn't mean you stay with him; when you're done, your ass comes right back here," he added gruffly, and I smiled.

"Of course," I said, laughing. "Where else would I go, but home?"

He looked at me, his eyes softening. And suddenly, the air around us changed. He crossed the distance between us and kneeled before me in the chair. My gaze had been downcast, and now, it lifted to meet his dark blue eyes. He took my face in his hands, and rubbed his thumbs along my lower lip.

"Brynjolf," I said softly, and it became not his name, but a confirmation, the 'yes' we both had waited so long for.

He raised his face and pressed his lips against mine, his mouth taking full possession of my own.

And in the darkness of the Vault then, I knew:

This was where I belonged. And this was who I belonged to.

But now.

"It'll be fine, Toothless, let's just see to Mercer for now," Vex said, rubbing my arm. I snapped out of it.

"Yes, of course." I cleared my throat and we finished our trek to his desk. "Mercer?"

"Karliah," he replied bitterly.

Vex and Roan sucked in their breath.

"Who is Karliah?" I asked cautiously.

"The bitch who drove the Guild to ruin," Mercer growled. "She deceived us, and killed our original Guildmaster, Galleus. He thought she loved him, caller her his 'little Nightingale'," he mocked contemptuously. "She's been the one behind the Goldenglow Estate and everything else these past few months. And, I've just figured out where the little devil is hiding."

"Why is Brynjolf angry?"

"Because we've no one to go after her. She's far beyond anybody's skillty. I've trained everyone in this Guild myself." Mercer sighed.

"I'm going to go talk to him," I said.

"Yes, please do," he said tiredly. "Stop that boy before he breaks something."

I caught up to Brynjolf in the Ratway Vaults. He was across the chasm, sitting in the chair I sat in when we spoke a few nights before. Even if the distance between us had been closed, there was still the bars. The thought alone terrified me.

"Brynjolf!" I called, and he looked up. "Wait, just. . .just wait, here I come."

I never ran faster, weaving through the maze of floors to get to him. When I did, he hadn't moved from his seat, and his head was in his hands.

"Hey," I said softly.

He looked up.

"Hey."

I crossed over to him.

"Are you alright?"

"No." He sighed. "The Guild is falling apart, and I can't stop it. There's nothing I can do, Karliah. . .Karliah's just good. Really good." He dropped his head back into his palms. "And she's going to drive us into the ground."

"Brynjolf. . ."

I knelt before him, as he had knelt before me, and touched his arms.

"Damnit!"

"Brynjolf, I could. . .I could help; I could go after Karliah."

"I couldn't ask you to do that, lass," he said, shaking his head. "You have to find your brother. We already talked about this, Rontu."

"I. . .I could do both."

"Damnit, Rontu, what do you want from me?!" he fumed.

Startled, I dropped my hands.

"I don't want anything from you, I just-"

"You don't know what you want," he seethed. "Here I am: busting my ass for my family, and you. . ." He trailed off, standing up abruptly. "You don't know what you would do for it."

"I would do anything for my brother, Brynjolf," I said fiercely, bewildered that he would say that. "Anything."

"I wasn't talking about Jarsha," he smiled thinly. "I was talking about this family. The Guild."

Oh, shit.

"I only meant-"

"Don't Rontu, this is exactly how this conversation is supposed to go," he said brusquely. "You wouldn't do anything for this family. But you would for Jarsha. So go for it. No one's stopping you."

"But, this is my family, too," I sputtered, the tears flowing down my face.

"I don't have any room or time for half measures," he spat. "This is not your family."

All the breath left my body.

"Wha. . .why?" He didn't answer, just glared at the floor. "Why are you saying this?"

He started to push past me, but I blocked his way, staring at him, waiting for a response.

"Brynjolf, why?"

"Step aside, Rontu," he said quietly. His eyes were hard and cold.

"Not until you tell me!" I shouted, crashing my fists onto his chest.

He grabbed the, and pushed them back into my chest before pushing me against the wall.

"Let me take care of mine," he said. "And you take care of yours."

Then, he pulled away, and left me weeping into the stone floor.

That was how Paia found me, later.

She still held the same concerned and furious look in her eye when she came to tell me that Brynjolf had gone out.

"Good," I said, the cold tone of my voice chilling even my bones. "That's just perfect."

"What are you going to do?" she asked worriedly. "Rontu, where are you going?"

I turned and smiled.

"Follow me, and find out."

Follow me she did. And after her came Vex, and Delvin and Cynric, and Niruin and all the rest. The trailed after me as I strode into the cistern, over the crosshairs and right up to Mercer Frey's desk.

"Can I help you, Rontu?"

I looked deep within myself, for any regrets, or sorrow or pain that would come from my resolution, and I could not find anything. I locked eyes with Mercer.

"Give me the location," I said. "I will go after Karliah."


	7. Chapter 7: Blood

**Hi everybody! I know it's still Turkey Day, but I got kinda bored over here :/ . Chapter Seven, hot off the presses. Reviews please, because I love hearing what you have to say! Thanks so much for your support. I hope you enjoy**

From that moment, something changed in me; I was a different warrior, a different thief, a different woman. A different me. We spread throughout the country like a wildfire travelling for the Snow Veil Sanctum, and extorting anyone Mercer claimed knew where she was. "We", as in my new partner and I.

"Karliah will be inside," Mercer said gruffly. "These old tombs aren't exactly known for their backdoors. She'll have no other way out, once we're in. Even if she does manage a trick like that, I've killed her horse. That'll slow her down."

Though I didn't question his actions outright, something didn't seem right to me about Mercer. He seemed. . .well. . .desperate. I made a mental note about him killing the horse; the beast was innocent of its master's actions. Things like that, actions like those are clues that people give out about themselves when they think you won't notice.

"Like when a man you're seeing grabs your arm like this," Adji once said, and gripped my upper arm tightly. "That's a sign that he might be violent. Don't take that chance, Segen."

I won't.

"Alright," I breathed. "I'm ready."

"She doesn't know we're here," he continued, as he led our horses to the trees. "Let's hold onto the advantage, eh, Toothless? Nice and quiet-like."

I gave a tight nod.

"Do you have a key?" I asked, trying to ignore the generous splatter of blood on the door into the Sanctum.

"Ah, who need 'em? With these old doors, it's just a matter of skill." With a flick of his wrist, the lock clicked, and he removed his pick. "Ladies first."

I sucked in a deep breath and stepped into the Sanctum.

Five minutes into the dank, dark structure, and we began to hear noises, and see shadows.

"I didn't think she would have people with her." Mercer hissed.

My blood was ice in my veins.

"Those. . .those aren't people," I managed.

One of shadows' figures appeared, and Mercer sucked in his breath.

"_Drougar_."

"I've got these three," I whispered, and drew my scimitar, Nhale. It was Jarsha's last gift to me, and possessed a flame enchantment. He'd once told me that flame magic was known as Destruction magic, which is why I name it Nhale: "Destruction".

With three quick slashes, the three dead walkers were put to rest- for good this time- their corpses burning bright.

"They're susceptible to fire," Mercer observed, nodding.

"Jarsha told me." He'd looted his share of old Nordic tombs.

"Good work," he said. "Let's get on."

We took down all the deadless warriors we met, delving deeper and deeper into the crypt. The traps they set centuries ago should have been already sprung, but clever Karliah set them again. She even added bone chimes to have anyone who managed to follow her rattle them and wake the Drougar. But before long, we came across the final door, the one that reveal Karliah, and end this.

"This door requires a dragon claw," I said, running my fingers over the animal inscriptions where the code was meant to be. "We'll have to wait her out; this is locked."

"You forget who you're talking to, girl," he snorted, and once again worked his magic, the heavy stone door unlocking and bowing down before him.

"How did you do that?" I breathed.

"Fortunately, these doors have a weakness, if you know how to exploit it," he said, his eyes shifting. "We need to get after Karliah. You first." I couldn't help myself this time, and gave him a hard look. Why would I go first to get this woman he had such a vendetta against?

"You have the best eyes," he explained, and I nodded.

He had a point.

I stalked into the room on high-alert, slowly making my up the stairs of the great room. It was when I reached the top that an arrow pierced my side, and I lost my breath. I reached to it, and felt around the tip, where my blood reddened the cloth of my Thieves Guild armor, bringing my fingers to my nose.

"It's poisoned," I whispered hoarsely, before I keeled over, and everything went dark.

Various things passed through my mind as I lay there: Baba, Mana, Adji, Jarsha, Paia.

_Brynjolf._

I wanted so much more for us. But that would never happen, now.

Just as I thought this, he appeared before me, sitting in the chair from the Vault only now, bars were all around us, instead of only on one side. I still knelt before him, waiting for him to speak.

_"This is not your home," he said impassively._

_"Brynjolf?"_

_"This is not your home."_

_"I know that."_

_"This is not your home," he said again._

_"Why are you doing this to me?"_

_"Because our families don't belong together," he said simply. "And both of them are in a mess. So you clean up your, and I'll clean up mine."_

_"And after that?"_

He never answered, only faded away as my consciousness returned. I could hear raised voice, and as listened closer, I picked one out as Mercer's and the other was a woman's, most likely Karliah's.

"Do you honestly think your arrow will reach me before my blade finds your heart?" Mercer snarled.

"Give me a reason to try."

The woman Karliah was a Dark Elf, small and thin. Despite the blame I recalled Mercer putting on her, she sounded more contemptuous of him, than he seemed of her.

"You're a clever girl, Karliah. Buying Goldenglow and funding Honingbrew was inspired."

"'To ensure an enemy's defeat, you must first undermine his allies,' she retorted. "It was the first lesson Gallus taught us."

"You always were a quick study," he scoffed, stepping closer

Karliah was still wary of him, and stepped away

"Not quick enough, otherwise Gallus would still be alive," she declared passionately.

_What?_

Mercer gave a bitter laugh, and waved his blade to emphasize his words. "Gallus had his wealth and he had you. All he had to do was look the other way."

My breath hitched;_ It had been Mercer all along! Then, Brynjolf. ._ .

"Did you forget the Oath we took as Nightingales? Did you expect him to simply ignore your methods?"

"Enough of this mindless banter!" he snarled brandishing his sword. "Come, Karliah. It's time for you and Gallus to become reunited!"

Karliah laughed in his face. When Mercer lunged, yelling angrily, she gave him another broad grin, and disappeared into thin air.

Mercer whirled around in a circle, his his sword ready.

"I'm no fool, Mercer," came Karliah's voice. "Crossing blades with you would be a death sentence. But I can promise the next time we meet, it will be your undoing."

She was gone.

Mercer turned to face me, and I fought to keep my eyes open. No! No, damn it, run! Rontu, get up and run! I struggled without even moving, and he strolled easily up alongside me.

"How interesting. It appears Gallus's history has repeated itself." I jerked against the constraints of my own body. "Karliah has provided me with the means to be rid of you, and this ancient tomb becomes your final resting place. But do you know what intrigues me the most? The fact that this was all possible because of you. Farewell," he grinned, and stuck his blade into my stomach.

Using the last of my strength, and writhing in pain, I gathered saliva and blood into my mouth, and spat it into his face.

"Ugh! Damn you!" he snarled, wiping it away. He paused, and smiled then. "It makes no matter to me. I'll be certain to give Brynjolf your regards."

_Brynjolf!_

_I watched Mercer Frey's back until my vision faded away. His figure was replaced before my eyes by Brynjolf._

_"This is not your home," he snarled._

_"You're not real," I mumbled back._

_"I'm real enough," he retorted._

_"No," I smiled, "It's not my home. But you were."_

_He smiled then, and was so beautiful, I wanted to cry. Then, he leaned in to whispered into my ear._

_"No," he said sweetly. "I wasn't."_

Brynjolf stood, and without looking back, he walked away, as Mercer had.

The world went black.

And then, just as quickly, light returned. I surged upward.

"Easy, easy. Don't get up so quickly," came Karliah's voice. My vision focused in on her, kneeling over my body. "How are you feeling?"

"How am I feel?" I spat. "You shot me!"

"No, I saved your life. My arrow was tipped with a unique paralytic poison. It slowed your heart and kept you from bleeding out. Had I intended to kill you, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"Any why exactly did you save me?" I asked, as she handed me a cup of water. I smelled it, still suspicious, and discovering it was clean, I took a sip.

"My original intention was to use that arrow on Mercer, but I never had a clear shot. I made a split second decision to get you out of the way and it prevented your death."

I nodded, having finished the water.

"We need to get after that fucker," I said decisively.

"I agree," she said. "But first, I think a reunion is in order."

"Is she awake?"

It took no time at all for that voice to register in my mind.

"Jarsha!" I called, though it killed my throat to do it. "Jarsha!"

"I'm here," he said, and suddenly warm arms encircled me. I knew these arms! I knew that smell! I knew that voice, making promises that I was so sure he would keep. "I'm here, to stay this time."

"Relae," I said, demanding him to swear in our language.

"Relae," he swore. "Rontu, we need to leave immediately. I realize I have some explaining to do. But not now. How soon can she travel?" he asked Karliah.

"Now," I said, aggravating that they were speaking over my head. "Though I fear Frey may have slain my horse."

"That's fine," Jarsha said. "Whoever he brought- and we knew he'd bring someone- we have a spare horse."

"Then let's go."

He led me to the last horse of a row of three, as black as ebony and as beautiful.

"The stable boys called her Queen Alfsigr," Jarsha commented, raising up in his saddle. "I thought you would like her; you both have spirit."

"I love her," I said, rubbing her nose. "Thank you."

I hoisted myself into the saddle, grasping my stomach where the ghost of Mercer Frey's blade mocked me insistently.

We took off out of the snow-covered lands, speeding down towards Riften. And as much as I hated it, and as much as our traded words burned me, I could only think one thing.

_Brynjolf._

But suddenly, that thought was supplanted by something else.

_Mercer._


	8. Chapter 8: Promises

**Hullo everybody! Chapter eight, to you, from me. The good brother is introduced, and the quest to stop Mercer Frey continues! I hope you enjoy!**

"So, where have you been?" I asked. "If not with the Guild, I mean?"

I asked Jarsha this as we crossed over the snow-frosted beaches of the East March. We had decided not to go to Riften, as I had thought, but instead rerouted to uncover the next puzzle: Gallus' journal.

It was a loaded question, my asking Jarsha where he had been, and he knew a storm was coming. Karliah had spurred her grey, white-dappled mare on ahead of us to give us privacy, but I knew she could hear us. And I didn't really care.

"I've. . .been around."

My brother had not aged by much, but I still found him quite changed. He had always been a guarded man, but now trying to speak to him was like trying to speak to a mountain; he gave nothing away. Apart from that, his face was weathered and his body scarred.

To look at Jarsha, one would see a tall man of dark brown, almost black eyes and brown skin that was neither light, like mine, nor dark like Adjin's. Of the three of us, his hair, which was in locks, was the longest, and had been adorned with silver chains and loops. Along with his hair, he had grown out his beard which paired nicely with his mustache. It reminded me of my father.

He was wearing this astounding type of Ebony armour, and I could tell there was more to it than what met the eye. Kind of like my brother. I could tell he had been counting coup still: the end of his chain peeked out whenever he bent his wrist. The last time I saw him, it was looped about his throat like a necklace.

There was a tiredness in his eyes that bespoke volumes; my brother had traveled long and far, all over this Skyrim. He needed a holiday, yes. But not in this conversation.

"Around. . ?" I snorted; he was almost funny. "You've been around, maybe, but you haven't been out of the loop. You knew I'd be coming for you; Brynjolf said as much."

"Knew you were coming yes, but also knew it would be too dangerous to reveal myself."

"What, because of Mercer?" I spat, something like desperation in my voice. "What, because the fucking Guild needed you?"

"I told you to stop digging. What part of that didn't you understand? Rontu, you nearly got yourself killed, and for what?"

"_I needed you!_"

There was a lasting silence.

"I know," he said quietly, ashamed. I was glad of it; he deserved to be ashamed.

"And that's why you revealed yourself to me," I reasoned aloud. "You wanted to reassure me with your presence."

"Exactly!" he exclaimed, relieved. "That's exactly what I was thinking!"

"Damn your presence." His smiled faltered. "I didn't need a shadow, Jarsha, I _needed_ you!"

"You seemed fine, on your own."

"People aren't books, Jarsha; I'm not one of your damned books!" I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. "I had to watch them burn down our house ," I choked out. " I was the one who had to hide under the charred bones of our fallen while they passed. I had to bury Baba and Mana. I had to paint my face, and seek vengeance. It was me who had to smuggle the survivors out of Hegathe- out of Hammerfell."

My chest was heaving, and we had stopped the horses on the banks. Karliah was no longer pretending not to watch us, but had swiveled around completely, her violet eyes full of empathy. Jarsha could not bring himself to look me in the eyes, and instead, stared into the wet sand.

"Rontu-"

"No," I said forcefully. "I need to say this, and you need to hear it." He gave me a pleading look, but nodded his head for me to continue. "The whole time, I swear, the whole. Entire. Time. I thought to myself, _Where is Adji? Where is Jarsha? Where are my brothers_?" Jarsha shook his head wordlessly, and Karliah's gaze shifted between the two of us. "I never felt so alone in my entire life. And the worst part-" I sputtered, the sobs wracking up uncontrollably. "The worst part was, he got what he wanted. Baba, I mean."

"Rontu, don't, please, I beg you-"

"He-he wanted me to c-carry on our h-house," I wept. "An-and now, I have t-to!" My brother gripped his mouth in his hands. "What was the price, Baba?" I wanted to know. "What was the price?"

Jarsha leapt down off of his steed, and crossed to mine in three long strides, pulling me down into his arms.

"I am so sorry."

It seems simple-minded, but that was exactly what I needed to hear. Nothing else was going to apologize for the hand my life had dealt me. Nothing else was going to regret the happiness that was pulled away and cremated before my waking eyes. And right after Jarsha apologized, he said what I truly needed to hear, from anyone at this point.

"Na lur'at rennai, mish'kiriai."

I wept harder as I savored his words in our tongue.

_You are not alone, little sister._

"This is not just your weight to bear," he said into my hair. "It is ours. We will find Adjin," he promised. "We will be a family again."

"_Relae_?"

"_Relae_."

Hours later, we reached the Winterhold, where a friend of Karliah's at the College would help to translate the journal she'd kept. It was Gallus', and like a true thief, it was coded.

"We will leave the horses here," Karliah said, rolling off of the back of her dappled mare, and relieving her of her tack. "I will pay for them to have rub-downs; we've ridden them hard in this frozen hell."

"Agreed," Jarsha said, and we both dismounted also. I gave him Queen Alfsigr's reigns, and he led both she and Elias, his brown stallion, into the stables of the college town and stared up at the imposing institute.

"It. . . it's like nothing I've ever seen," I breathed

The College was enormous. It was poised challengingly on a tall island just off the cliffs of the town. A long bridge connected them, and everything was covered in snow and frost.

"Ah, you get used to it," Jarsha smirked. I glanced at him.

"This is your school, isn't it?" He nodded, and I turned my eyes back on the castle. "Baba told me you were to attend the College of Winterhold, along with the Bard's College."

Jarsha snorted.

"Baba was off his nut if he thought I was ever setting foot in the Bard's College."

"What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing." He smirked again. "Nothing, it's just full of pansies."

I grinned.

In our childhood, Jarsha had always hated musicians. He claimed that being one was just one's claim that he couldn't successfully do anything else. That he had to trade in a sword for a drum. That he was a pansy.

I grinned again, "Maybe you're right. But I remember a little boy who was angry because he was the only one who couldn't function in our music lessons."

Still looking up at the College, I stifled a laugh as I felt his cold stare.

"Damn your memory," he snarled. "Let's move on."

We entered the town and found Karliah's friend, Enthir, at the Frozen Hearth Inn of Winterhold. He was an elf, like Karliah, which left me unsettled in some part of my mind, but I ignored it. I had become wary of the elves since the Aldmeri Dominion ransacked Hammerfell, just as it was invading Skyrim. But I knew that if I let what a few of one nation did impact my view of the entire race, I'd be no better than the Nords of Skyrim, with their cold looks, and whispers.

If I was sick of it, I knew the elves had to be.

Enthir confessed his inability to interpret Gallus' journal on his own.

"Not with that last part," Jarsha said, shaking his head. "'_Not on your own_'," he repeated. "That means there's another way, and we just need to get to it."

Enthir cast a weary look at my brother.

"He's written all the text in the Falmer language. I can't translate it, but I know someone who might be able to. The court wizard of Markarth, Calcelmo, might have the materials you need to get this journal translated."

"What's the catch?" Karliah asked warily.

Enthir grinned.

"Calcelmo is a fierce guardian of his research. Getting the information won't be easy."

"Fucking figures," my brother grumbled.

Enthir's red eyes squinted at him, "Do I know you, boy?"

Jarsha stiffened,

"Nobody who knows me, calls me '_boy_'."

"He's Jarsha, Jarsha O'Naharis. He attended this College a few years ago," I supplied with a grin.

"Ah, yes," Enthir grimace. "I kicked you out of a lecture once. You were disturbing the class."

"More like rescuing it," Jarsha snorted. "You and your ridiculous theories about how to manipulate dragon balls-"

"- dragon flames-"

"- dragon piss-"

"- dragon _FLAMES_-"

"- dragon whatever into some psychotic potion or something, was completely illogical."

"I'm starting to see why they kicked you out," Enthir said spitefully.

"No, no, my good man; I left," Jarsha retorted sardonically.

"Alright, children!" Karliah cut in. "That's enough." She turned to me. "Rontu. I'm going to need you to head to Markarth. There are still some loose ends your brother and I must tie together, and I'm afraid we're going to have to split up. I will ensure the journal's safety. Jarsha, you will return to Riften to ensure the Guild's safety. We'll meet back here in say, three days' time. Good luck."

My brother and I left the Inn immediately, and headed to the stables, leaving Karliah to finish her conversation with Enthir. He finished saddling the three horses with the help of the stable boys, while I sat within the cabin, scribbling on some parchment I had asked for, and they had provided.

"Warm enough?"

I looked up from the parchment as the North Wind's cold came rushing in behind Jarsha, who stood breathing into his hands.

"Not even close," I grinned, taking a sip of mead. "You want some?"

"Yes, thanks." He drank straight from the bottle, which caused me to wrinkle up my nose. "What?"

"Nothing," I lied, grabbing a tankard from across the table and setting it before him.

He smiled, taking the hint, and filled up his cup.

"And that is?" he asked, nodding at the parchment.

"This? It's a letter," I said, signing my name. "To Paia. I need you to deliver it."

"You mean to warn her." I nodded. "That's understandable."

"If Mercer does return to the Guild, I mean to protect her the way I couldn't protect the others. . ." I trailed off, and fixed my eyes on him. "Have you heard the rumors?"

"What rumors?" he said, his eyes narrowing.

"They say Shazzaa's crossed the Ghost Sea, and he's looking for Paia and me." His mouth tightened into a grim line, but he said nothing, so I continued. "She thinks he'll find us."

"Over my dead body."

"I thought you'd say that." I smiled wanly, and handed him the letter. "Make sure this gets to her."

"What am I now, a courier?"

"_Kemet!_" I snarled, and his eyes widened.

"Alright, alright!" he sighed heavily. "I haven't heard my second name in a while. You sounded just like Mana, just now."

"If our mother had asked you to deliver a letter, she wouldn't have had to raise her voice; you would've just done it," I said irritably.

"Point taken." He glanced out of the window at the rising sun. "It's about that time," he said, pocketing the letter. I followed him out to the stable, where we met Karliah and mounted our horses.

"Ride fast, ride hard," she said, by way of parting.

"Be safe," Jarsha added.

"Good luck," I supplied.

We started riding out in a line, but separated at the crossroads, as Karliah headed North to gods knew where, Jarsha sped South to Riften, and I galloped West towards Markarth. We would be together again soon, my brothers and I, that much was clear. I watched him disappeared over a bank of snow, and I smiled.

We always kept our promises.


	9. Chapter 9: Fortune

**Hullo everybody! I'm sorry I've been so quiet lately; but I had more than a few college apps due. The whole time, all I could think about was this chapter and the one in progress now. There's a whole lot more to come as soon as I go on break, but this one is a cornerstone. You'll kind of see where I intend to take it. Thank you to all my readers, reviewers and those of you who only glance at the title and first few lines before gliding right past. You know who you are. I hope you enjoy! -LR**

Markarth was as fortified and domineering as I had expected it to be.

Once a great Dunmer city, it was now a metropolis of man, full of corruption and deceit. It wasn't a visit I looked forward to.

The black mare skidded to a stop at the end of the cobbled road, near the mines and stables of Markarth. We had ridden two days with only a few hours rest in Whiterun. I slept from early morning to early afternoon, and had just eaten before we set off again, riding through the night to hopefully reach Markarth before its residents broke their fast.

I dismounted Queen Alfsigir in the gray dawn and took in the city gates. They were bronze and massive and foreboding, and I was not ready to enter them. Once I did, I knew I would have to follow through with the plan, and I just wasn't ready for that. I just wanted that moment in infinity: standing by my horse and staring up at this fortress where I knew my life would be altered drastically. No having to step inside and face anything.

I wanted to be an instant in time; a painting. Immortal. Unworried.

"But cold," I muttered to myself.

"We are the children of the Desert," came a woman's purr. "The North Wind chills us here."

I turned to see a brown-furred Khajiit woman donned in worn-in mail smiling kindly at me. Beyond her was a caravan, and I felt foolish for not having noticed it before.

"How did you know?" I asked, approaching her. Anything to keep from heading into Markarth. "That I'm from a desert, too? How did you know?"

She chuckled , the symmetrical white spots of fur on her cheeks pushing up alongside her golden eyes. Her tailed flicked playfully back and forth.

"Alone, I see nothing," she smiled knowingly. "But, Ri'saad, he sees all."

"Is he your leader?"

"Just so," she bowed her head genially.

"And he saw me?"

"And would like to see you still. Come. He waits."

As hesitant as I was about entering Markarth, I was expecting for at least some of the skepticism to return as the woman turned to lead me into the tent and see the old cat Ri'saad. But it didn't. I left my horse at the stable, and followed her under the leather folds to see a Khajiit gentleman of long, white fur and kind green eyes full of wisdom.

He dipped his head in greeting, and I rushed to dip mine in return.

I had always heard tell of Khajiit caravans in Skyrim. Displaced and travelling like me, I had yearned to see them. And now, here I was.

"Thank you, Khayla," came the old man's voice. She bowed her head again, glanced at me, and retreated from the tent. "How now, Rontu O'Naharis?"

"Very well, thank you," I said hoarsely. "And thank you, for your hospitality."

He gave a slow, old-man type nod, and I perused the tent. It was neat and despite being temporary, full of vivid color. I could see chests full of items and treasures that the cats had acquired on their infinite journeys.

"Have you any wares for sale?"

"Those and more," he said, and closed his eyes. "Wares. Jewels. Artifacts." His eyes opened. "Fortunes."

"Fortunes?"

"Yes, fortunes," he said, rising to his feet. "The ones that truly matter; that people truly feel. Not the ones they merely touch."

"Do you have mine?" I asked, barely hearing myself.

"Of course."

"Does my fortune have a price?"

"Of course. . . not," the cat purred gleefully, picking and poking at a few items around him. "Love. Honor. Faith. Kindness. Fate. These things are price-_less_, no?"

I nodded tightly in agreement.

"Just so." He returned to the carpet with a kettle. "Tea?"

"Yes, thank you. What have you got?"

"Blue Mountain Flower."

"That's fine with me." There were only a few sips there in the small cup, but I drank them. "Thank you."

"No, thank you," he amended, and swiped the cup away from me, peering at its contents.

"What are you-"

"One's fate must derive from his own essence," he announced. I kept staring, and he sighed at my confusion. "The dregs of your tea,"

he explained patiently.

"Ah."

He studied them a few moments more, before fixing his eyes on me.

"You're in love," he said. "With a man."

I gave a hesitant nod.

"Not just any man; a thief. A good one, too, much like yourself." I flinched, and he glanced up. "You haven't taken anything from me, I noticed. I thank you for that."

I was dumbstruck.

He continued.

"You care very much for him. But Fate has crossed your stars. You came to this cold land for your blood, and the blood binds you. He is the same way."

"But _how_?!" I pleaded. I had found my voice. "How is it the same for him; what keeps us apart, every time I try to get closer to him?"

"Be still. Be calm," he said patiently, and looked back into my cup. "I cannot read this man's intent; these are not his dregs, and so this is not his essence. But there is a void between you, that nothing may transcend. See."

It was a command, not an offer, and I looked, and did see.

The dregs were arranged in something of a circle, all mushed in a ring. At three instances in the ring, there was an obvious protrusion from the band. There was a fleck of wilted Blue Mountain Flower in the middle of the circle. I knew at once it was me. From one of the three protrusions, a line of small flecks led to the one in the center.

"There is a void around you that none of those protrusions can reach, except the one," came Ri'saad's voice. "Many live life and are never loved by anyone. You are very lucky to be loved by three."

"Three?" I asked incredulously. "But, there's only the one. I've never-"

"Three, so say the dregs, and three, it shall be!" he announced. "Now, drink this."

Absent-mindedly, I drank the tea. and almost spit it out.

"_What in hell is this_!?"

"Hanging Moss Tea," he confessed, at least having the decency to look ashamed. "I apologize. But not really. It was necessary." He made a motion for me to finish, which I did. He snatched the cup from my hands.

"Ah!" he exclaimed, squinting into it. "The identities of one of the three has appeared!"

"And he is?"

"First. . ." he paused, and revealed the cup's contents. ". . .a Shadow." A little, curved line like a wisp of smoke. It was Brynjolf, I knew.

"And next?"

"Drink this, drink this!" I obeyed, and passed it to him. "A King."

It was a line, with three prongs rising up from it.

I inhaled the final cup of Hanging Moss and passed it to him

"And last?" I was almost afraid to ask.

"Last is. . .is. . ."

"IS WHAT!?" I asked, and sprang up.

His eyes were full of confusion.

"The last one. . . _is a Dragon_."

I sat back down

There was a lasting silence between us, and I broke it.

"There's a mistake," I said decisively. "This is not even possible."

"There are no mistakes," Ri'saad said quietly. "Only misinterpretations."

He placed my cup before me, and left the tent.

I waited a few moments before looking inside.

I had seen it before.

A smudge of petals in the bottom of a porcelain teacup suddenly became a narrow face, like a horse's. Two curved horns rose to peaks from the crown of the head.

A dragon skull.

"But dragons don't exist," I whispered to myself. And even if they did, they did not fall in love with humans, just as humans did not fall in love with them. And even still, there was Brynjolf. . .

I rose to my feet, and peered into the cup a little while longer before I pressed my thumb against the dregs at the bottom.

"I won't think about that now," I whispered to myself, as I left the tent. "I'll think about that tomorrow."

A breeze swiftly mounted into large gusts of air about the mountain pass, whipping up my now shoulder-length hair. It had been months since I'd last shaved it down, growing into an untamable mane of black curls. With all the jobs Mercer had me running on, there had never been any time for it. . .

. . . and just like that, I found myself lost in thoughts of Brynjolf.

I remembered how he'd liked it better long, my hair.

"All men do," I snorted.

"Well, not all men, lass," he was with a crooked smile. "I like your mohawk just fine, but. . . I dunno. With long hair, you look. . .you look. . ."

"Wanton?" I supplied with a snort.

"Vulnerable," he said, and it gave me pause. So he continued. "You look- damn, I know you're going to hate this- you look like less of a warrior. More like an ordinary woman."

I thought about that, and tried to not be angry.

"I can see that, I guess," I said softly. "But I don't think that you wouldn't like me if I was."

"If you were what?"

I smiled, "An ordinary woman."

He returned my grin, and shrugged.

"You're right there, lass, I suppose I wouldn't. Not that I cared about your hair; remember, when we met, it was that damn hood of yours that did the trick."

I threw my head back and laughed.

"It was, wasn't it? You had no idea what it'd look like under there." He shrugged again, still smiling, and I bumped his shoulder with mine. "So?" I asked. "Did the mohawk meet your preference? Or the long, flowing mane?"

"You're my preference," he said, so sweetly that I kissed him. "But at least now I've something to pull on," he added suggestively.

In my mind, our laughter trailed off, and I realized I now stood before the doors of Markarth.

This wasn't just for revenge against Mercer, wasn't just to help Karliah, wasn't just to regain my brother, wasn't just to build my revenue for land in the West.

I was doing this for Brynjolf.

I had no idea what I was going back to; not the way I know now. But regardless, I was going back to it. To him. I didn't care about the fortune, about the dragon, about the king. I knew exactly where I belonged and who I belonged to.

And that was the shadow.


	10. Chapter 10: Open Wounds

**Hullo, everybody! Chapter ten por vou. Many of you may hate it, but. . .but nothing, I won't make any promises! Regardless of how you feel, please leave your thoughts as reviews and I hope you enjoy! -LR**

I burst through the heavy, gilded doors before throwing myself against them will all my might.

"Shit!" I hissed. "Shit!" I braced all my weight against the doors as bodies began to slam against the other side.

I looked all around me and found a ceremonial spear propped against the wall. I reached out and grabbed it, slipping it through the handles of the door, my eyes dancing warily about the frame to gauge whether it would give.

Satisfied, I checked my side.

Deep red blood seeped lazily from the wound.

"Shit," I breathed.

Everything had been going just fine a moment ago!

The old bastard must have found out someone stole the damn key to his solar.

Upon reaching it, I found a heavy stone tablet that was much, much, much too big to carry out of there. I scanned the room more to find parchment and charcoal all around. Immediately, I knew what to do, and made rubbings of the tablet.

That was when they came.

About a dozen heavily armed guards had trooped into the solar.

The tablet I had just "stolen" made for a good hiding place; it was huge, remember, and blocked me from their view. But not for long. Thinking quickly, I drank an Invisibility potion, but as it took effect, one of the guards coming up the stairs made eye-contact with me.

He got an arrow off just as I jumped from the ledge and ran for the door where I was presently, praying to the Divines to keep it from giving them purchase.

I was startled out of my thoughts by the muffled count: _"One. . .two. . .three. . .PUSH!"_ and had to hear it a second time before its significance hit me.

"SHIT!"

I whirled in a circle before looking out over the ledge of the balcony I stood upon.

_"One. . .two. . .three. . .PUSH!"_

No turning back now.

I vaulted over the side, landing neatly on my feet on a cliff face a few meters below the ledge just as the guards burst through the doors, crashing down the stairway I had abandoned. Once all noise of them had vanished, I inspected my wound again.

The arrow head was still lodged in me.

My breath began coming from me in short, quick bursts; I was having a panic attack. Even as a child, I never could stand the sight of my own blood.

"_Hold your breath_," Adji would have said. "_Rontu, hold your breath and count to ten_."

I started counting.

"_Good. Now backwards_."

I obeyed.

With my mind cleared, I refocused on my injury. The arrow had not hit any organs; the shot itself had been half-assed.

"Hell, even _Maven_ coulda ghosted me, at that distance," I said, and chuckled to myself, immediately regretting it when my stomach clenched in pain. "Shit. Okay. Shit." I peeked at the arrow head again and sighed. "Like ripping off a leech," I reasoned, and before I could talk myself out of it, I put the handle of my steel dagger in my mouth, and plunged my fingers under my skin, fishing out the steel tip.

I squeezed my eyes tightly shut again, allowing only a small whimper of pain, and a mantra of curses to escape me. "Okay. Okay," I breathed.

I searched my pouch for a healing potion, and only found ones for Stamina, Invisibility and Magicka. I quirked a brow, Magicka, huh?

"What the hell did you say, Jarsha?" I murmured to myself. "Drink, and focus. Alright. Drink, and focus. Drink, and focus."

I squeezed my eyes shut and gulped down the bottle of Magicka. Once it was gone, I sucked in my breath as I felt all my nerve-endings pulsing with energy.

"Drink, and focus."

Keeping my eyes shut, I raised my palms and focused the energy I felt into them before placing them both on my stomach.

"Focus," I whispered. "Focus."

I could feel myself healing, and peeked an eye open to watch the wound close.

"Amazing," I breathed. "Thank you, Jarsha. Thank you, Adji."

I sat up straighter on the cliff face; taking in the view of the city of Markarth. I was going to have to climb down to get out of here. I peered over the edge. There was a waterfall just beside the cliff. It could cover for me.

Thanking the Divines under my breath, I carefully began my journey down the rocks, and behind the cascading water. There was something of a cave there, and I took a moment to change out of my Thieves Guild armour and into a regular dress; scarlet red, over a white blouse with red ties along the sleeves, and an onyx circlet over my hair, and leather boots.

My Hammerfell clothes would be much too conspicuous.

I slipped out from behind the waterfall and onto the main road, quickly blending into the crowd. That was how I intended to escape the city: acting as a normal citizen while keeping a watchful eye on the Markarth guard.

Instead, I was stopped right before the gates by a courier.

"Got something I'm supposed to deliver. Your eyes only," he said conspiratorially before disappearing on his route.

I unfolded the note, and was shocked to the core at its content.

_Things are much worse than I could have believed. Left Riften almost as soon as I arrived. Rode all night to meet you. Find me just inside the first mine. Do not be followed. Come now._

There was no signature.

It wasn't the urgency of the letter that killed me; it was the fact that it was written in my native language. I knew the handwriting as well.

I didn't waste a moment to betray the concern I felt, and walked lightly to the gate, and to the mouth of the mine without rushing. I cast my eyes around the entrance before settling on a disturbance at the peak of the tunnel.

"It's safe," I reassured Jarsha.

He crept cautiously from the shadows.

"It's never safe," he amended warily. "Especially not now."

I recoiled.

"What's with the cryptic note? What's wrong."

He gave no answer.

"Is it Paia?" I breathed. Still no response. "Fuck, it is, isn't it? I've lost her, I've lost-"

"No, she's. . .well, she's not fine, I can't and won't lie about that. She's not dead either, or beyond our help. But we need to get on the road. Now."

"One at a time," was my only response. I couldn't afford to waste time with questions when my best friend-no, no, too polite, my sister was in danger.

I left the mines first, and mounted Queen Alfsigr, pulling off and onto the open road. When I reached the first pass outside of Markarth's view and jurisdiction, I dismounted and crossed into the pass, changing into my Hammerfell clothes for more comfort.

After that, I pulled my mare out of sight and waited for Jarsha to catch up to me.

"What do you mean, it's not safe?"

"Brynjolf has gone berserk." All the breath left my body. "He figures you and Mercer have sprung the vault and run off together. The vault itself is completely dry."

"No," I hissed, "no."

"Brynjolf thinks that Mercer hired you and Paia as accomplices, and that the story behind you and I being siblings is just a cover. He figures Mercer told you what you needed to know about me and our family to be convinceable."

"No, no, he couldn't. . ."

"He believes that the climax of the charade was a 'mythological' trip to go after Karliah, and that Paia was meant to stay as your eyes and ears."

"What?" Time stopped. "What has he done with her?" He gave no response. My fists clenched, the nails digging through into my palms. "WHAT HAS HE DONE WITH PAIA?!"

"She's been locked away," he said quietly. "The others are reluctant and protestant, but Brynjolf has convinced Delvin, and that's all he needs. They were the two vice-heads after Mercer, and the others are obliged to obey them."

"Did you speak to her?"

"No," he said sadly. "She's guarded at all times. I gave her your note, and she seemed to register that she wasn't alone."

"How could you tell?"

"She said 'Me, too'," he supplied. I grasped my mouth, crouching over. The last line of my letter had been _I love you_. Tears sprang into my eyes"That, and 'I will wait for you'."

I immediately stopped crying then and my eyes widened.

Now was not the time to cry. Now was the time to save my sister.

"Jarsha," I said rising. "You will meet Karliah at the promised place in Winterhold. We will need her to vouch for us to the Guild. I will return alone-"

"-Segen, no-"

"-alone," I reiterated coldly."And I will end this."

"End what?"

"I knew not to become involved in the Guild. But I acted against my instincts. I let the means interrupt the end, which is you and Adji. This is my punishment for being sidetracked." I seated my horse. "And it will not happen again."

"Don't do this" he said worriedly. "Rontu."

"We'll meet again in Riften, brother."

"Rontu-"

I put my heels to Queen Alfsigr and sped towards Riften, trying to keep my mind as clear as possible.

"_Faster_," I whispered, and she stretched her legs out farther, putting her head down and charging forward. Just as Paia and I, we were one. "I'm coming for you," I hissed to the wind. "Wait for me."

My footfalls echoed loudly throughout the cistern. While the sound was familiar, it was anything but homey. The traps about the Ratway had increased tenfold and I had outsmarted every one of them.

Shadows came running from all directions before becoming figures as they came into view.

"_Toothless_." I could hear my name on Cynric's breathless voice, but I ignored it. "Toothless, I knew- I never doubted that- SHE'S BACK! DELVIN, NIRUIN, VEX- SHE'S BACK!"

I continued my brisk walk towards Brynjolf's rooms.

"Toothless-Rontu, wait, we- Bryn! Brynjolf! She's back!"

Just as he yelled this, I kicked in the door to Brynjolf's rooms. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Tonilia scrambling to cover herself and Brynjolf jolting awake and brandishing a dagger.

"_Rontu. . ._" he whispered hoarsely. But I didn't hear him.

There was no moment in time, like I thought there'd be a month ago. I felt nothing for him, but betrayed, bitter anger. And even that was too cold for me to truly feel towards him.

I crossed the room in three long strides and plucked his keys from their hook on the wall before exiting the room as Brynjolf pulled on his pants.

"Rontu, you're back," Vex was saying, visibly relieved. "You were gone so long, we thought- Bryn thought-" I pushed past her. "Rontu?"

Not only Vex, but Devlin, Cynric, Niruin and all the rest were brushed by as I advanced towards the Ratway Vaults. I came to the edge where the vast space stretched between the door to the Cistern and the Vaults themselves and could see Paia's form in the cage I'd used to visit with Brynjolf.

"Rontu!"

I moved away from the edge and travelled all the way around and up to her cell.

"Segen!" she cried, and that damn near broke me.

I literally couldn't find the key to the cell fast enough, and focused my energy and rage into my palms once more before blasting the door off of its hinges. I kicked in the barred door and Paia ran to me.

"Segen!"

"Ninneh," I sighed. "Are you hurt? Can you walk?"

"I'm fine, but you-"

"Don't worry about me," I snarled hoisting her up. "I'll be fine in just a minute."

Brynjolf had just made it to the door- or gap- to the cell, looking bewildered and angry and nervous and snide and worried all at once.

"Not with your lo-"

"Shut the fuck up," I said, so quiet and so bitter that he was shocked into silence. "You just shut the fuck up. You know absolutely nothing. Not about family. Not about sacrifice. Not about love." Paia's breath on the back of my neck was soothing, and the only reason why I could get the words out. "Not that owe you an explanation, but seeing as you've been so fucking eager to fill in the blanks, here's one for you. Mercer betrayed all on his own. He stuck me when we went after Karliah and left me for dead before returning here to loot the vault.

After that, we spent all our time looking for that bastard and doing everything to track him down to save this-to save your family. So in this two month that I've been off sacrificing everything for your family, you've been here, needlessly brooding and imprisoning my own. We should have known better."

"Who is this we?" He snapped, not prepared at all to answer to the rest.

"Karliah and Jarsha. They will return here in a day's time to finish our work on Mercer. After that, I suppose they'll take over the Guild. And after that. . .after that, I'm not sure."

There was a long silence between us, filled only with Paia's light snores against my hair.

"Rontu. . .I am so, so sorry."

Well, there it was. His apology. After I had spent months thinking of only him. After I had died and been reborn with new purpose. After he had poisoned my image with his anxious lies and after he had put my family in a cell.

This was his apology.

"I am so, so sorry, Rontu," he repeated, and I wanted to laugh.

"Yes," I said, with a small smile. "Yes. You are."

I waited for him to move aside, and I passed him with Paia on my back.

He did not offer to take her, and I knew it was only because he knew I would be outraged at his offer. None of them ever would, again.

_Fate has crossed your stars_, Ri'saad had said. _You came to this cold land for your blood, and the blood binds you. He is the same way. _

And I knew then that the bonds of blood that kept me from him and he from me had only tightened their grip.


	11. Chapter 11: Clay

**Hullo, eveyone! This chapter will make you lose your shit, guaranteed. I only know 'cause it made me lose mine. Don't give up on Rontu, she'll turn out alright. But as for Brynjolf. . .well, let's just skip to the part where I hope you enjoy. Hope you enjoy! -LR**

The sun rose up red over Riften, the gods' breath in the trees. I stood on the balcony of the Black Briar Estate, leaning over the rail, watching the city wake, and wishing I could be someone else.

It had been three days since I had stormed the Guild and two since Karliah and Jarsha had arrived. My brother had been twice as vehement as me, because the same way I felt responsible for Paia, he felt responsible for the both of us.

_"Don't speak to her. Don't look at her. Don't even breathe in her direction," he'd said with calm rage, towering darkly above Brynjolf. "I will deal with you later, right now, Mercer is our issue."_

_"Agreed," Brynjolf responded hoarsely._

I wrapped the fur of the fine cloak tightly around me.

"Mother," I said quietly. "Mother, it's so cold here. It's colder than you would believe."

"Then, maybe you should put on your hood."

I whirled around to face Brynjolf, bewildered.

He stood tall and resolved, his jaw set like stone and his eyes full of decisiveness.

"I have to speak to you."

"I can't, I. . .I-"

He advanced a step closer.

"I _need_ to speak to you."

"Please don't do this right now, I can't-"

"Rontu, I'm going to speak to you. All you have to do is listen."

Despite there being a considerable distance between us, I found myself backed into a corner, looking at him wildly, anticipating his next move as if I were his prey. And, maybe I was.

"Then speak," I consented, turning my back on him.

"I was wrong. In every way that is humanly possible, I was wrong. I never should have doubted you- I never really _did_ doubt you, I went against my instincts, and I'm paying dearly for it. It's just. . .when I found out you had gone. . .I didn't know what to do, or think, even. You were just gone." His voice was full of pain. "I was more scared then I've ever been in my life. I didn't know if I'd ever see you again."

Still I said nothing.

"After the fourth week of yours and Mercer's search, I began to get anxious. I had no solace, lass, I couldn't eat, or sleep or think; all I thought about was you." I covered my mouth. "There was no word, nobody knew where you were. Our eyes were blind and our ears were deaf, all over the country. On a whim, I checked the vault with Delvin, and. . .and it was empty. All our coin-gone."

"So you thought me?" I spat. "I would never betray you like that! You knew me, Brynjolf! You knew me." I turned to face him. "You expect me to be alright with the fact that you paired me with the likes of Mercer when you knew me? No. I don't accept that."

"I knew Mercer, too," he pointed out. "Look where that's gotten me. Rontu, the world was silent, it was my duty to anticipate the worst case scenario."

"He left me to die!" I snapped. "That is the worst case scenario!"

"Not to me, lass," he said softly. "It's not the worst case to me."

"Oh, really?" I said dryly. "Then what is?"

"If I had been right." I shut my mouth. "If you really had robbed us, blind, deaf and dumb. If you really had run off with Mercer Frey." He slowly closed the distance between us. "If all of _this_," he said pointedly as my breath hitched, "If all of this had been a lie. That's my worst-case scenario."

I shook my head back and forth in anguish.

"Why are you doing this to me?" I wanted to know. "Why you just let the stars cross?"

"Well, I don't know about any stars," he said, shifting back and forth nervously. "But I do know that I am sorry. And I do know that I love you."

"No, you don't."

"Yes. I do," he persisted. "I said terrible things to you, lass, just before you disappeared. But I made a promise, to you and to myself. I won't let us be separated again, gods be damned, I won't. If you don't love me now, you will learn to. But I won't make the same mistake, lass. Not twice."

He turned and left me there, and didn't hear me whisper, "Me neither."

I wanted to cry. But I was all cried out.

I wanted to cry for Paia and Jarsha and Adjin and Mercer and Karliah and Tonilia and Brynjolf, but mostly Rontu, because nobody had cried for Rontu before, and she needed it.

Divines, she needed it.

"Mercer had an estate," Delvin said. "Maven gave it to him a while back. If there's anything about his future plans, it'll be in there."

"Has he returned?" Jarsha asked.

"Only to rob the vault. His house's unoccupied. Less, that is, you count the dog."

"Dog. . ?"

The Guild members shared sly looks, and Delvin pressed on.

"There's a man what guards his house, so we'd have a little trouble getting in. Vald, the bastard's name is. He's indebted to Maven, see. Working for Mercer is his payoff."

"I see" I said quietly.

I could feel Brynjolf's careful gaze on me as I pondered this new factor.

"I know what you're thinking, lass, but there's no way around it. We've no choice but to get rid of Vald. Who's to say he doesn't know where Mercer is and won't squeal? He's scum, anyway. No one will miss him."

My eyes narrowed and I fixed them on him.

"I don't need your advice, Brynjolf," I said shortly, and turned to face the group. " No one touches Vald. I will find another way."

"And how do you propose to do that!" Brynjolf argued.

"By asking his debtor, for starters," I called over my shoulders as I started out to Maven's room.

She was sitting at a table in the corner of her room, sipping tea.

"Make it quick."

"We still need to track down Frey, and I think there's something in his house that can provide some clues for us."

She nodded, "And now, the 'but'."

"Well, I still have to deal with Vald."

"That scurvy idiot?" She snorted. "I ought to have had him killed a long time ago. But, I suppose I still wanted my money's worth, so I let him stay on with Mercer."

"What indebted him to you?"

"What indeed?" she said dryly. "A simple shipment some years ago was going to arrive with an exquisite quill I paid very good money for. That damned fool crashed the small boat in some rocks in the middle of the lake, and the quill was lost in the wreckage." She sighed tragically. "I've tried so many times to recover it, but to no avail."

"What if I went after it?"

"You?" She smirked. "I have had hundreds of people in that lake searching."

"But none with eyes like mine," I countered.

She paused, considered my proposition.

"Well, I suppose it would strike Vald of his debt." I was already on my way out. "That is _IF_ you can find it, O'Naharis! Only _IF_!" she called after me.

I practically ran down Brynjolf and the rest outside of the door on my way to the lake, ignoring all the calls after me. I sprinted to the gates of Riften, and out of them, directly to the water's edge, all while disrobing.

I stood barefoot on the banks of Lake Honrich, shucking out of my trousers, Alik'r hood, shirt and red cloak, keeping only my underclothes, my boots already off.

I waded into the murky, cold waters, swimming out to the small island that Maven claimed the crash had occurred. I plunged beneath the surface, and trained my eyes on my surroundings. There was definite evidence of a crashed boat: there was the bow protruding from the lake's floor, and there was part of the hull over there by the opposite island.

I decided to narrow my search between these two points, took in air, and began.

It was dark by the time I found the part of the boat with a lockbox. Straining to hold my breath, I'd had to pick the lock underwater, and it opened to reveal Maven's precious quill.

I pushed off the lake floor and swam frantically to the surface, gasping for breath when I broke it.

"_Thank you, thank you, thank you_," I murmured, turning the quill over in my hands. "_Thank you._"

I swam to shore and picked up my clothes from where they were strewn about, stopping only to wrap my cloak around me.

I could make it to Maven's house unseen as I wished, and I didn't want to waste time putting my clothes on. Not when everyone wanted the easy way into Mercer's home. Not when an innocent man's life was a risk.

I slipped past the guards and into Riften unnoticed and was surprised to find all the Guild members in Maven's manor upon my arrival. I was sure they would have forsaken my plan when finding the quill proved to take so much more time than killing Vald would have.

"Well?" Cynric asked. "Have you found it?"

I pressed my clothes into his hands as I passed by him.

"Was there ever any doubt?"

"Ooh! I told you, Vex! There was no way she'd come back empty-handed."

"Thanks to you, I owe him five pounds," she grumbled good-naturedly. I offered her a smile and she returned it.

They trailed behind me as I led the way to Maven's dining room, where she sat with Jarsha and Brynjolf.

"I told you not to waste your-" I cut Brynjolf off by placing the quill on the table. "-time. Divines help me. You really did it, lass."

"You forget who you're talking to," Vex smirked.

"Well, I guess we can head over to Mercer's house and tell Vald. . ." Brynjolf's eyes narrowed. "Where. . . Rontu, where are your clothes?"

I had almost forgotten that I only wore a cloak and drenched underclothes. All eyes were now fixed on me now, and while they were looking at my body, they weren't looking at my body.

They were looking at the chain.

I cast off the cloak to give them a better look.

Mine, like all, begins with a heavy clasp like a bull septum, piercing the split of my derriere. There used to be a joke that "Barak-dur owns your ass". Both literally and figuratively, this was true.

From the septum, my chain rises straight up my back between my shoulder blades before stopping in the middle of the back of my neck. From there, it loops around my neck like a choker and breaks off on either side of my neck, one end swirling down my left arm and the other down my right. Both ends cease on the backs of my hands.

"It's beautiful," Vex whispers, awe-struck. By their expressions, I know that the others think the same. But that isn't something I could ever agree with. To bear the weight of my chains meant to have done all I have done, experience all I have experienced, learn all that I know.

And what I know is that none of it was worth that weight.

"And that's all you get for free," I said, somewhat embarrassed at the silence. I took my clothes back from Cynric and left the room to find an empty one I could change in.

As I finished up, the others prepared to leave and I joined them.

I was entering the cistern at the back of our group when Brynjolf stopped me.

"I just have to know, lass," he began and let out an exasperated sigh, "Why did you go out of your way to save Vald? You don't know him. Never heard of him except for what we've said, but even that didn't keep you from going after the quill. So, why?"

I thought a moment before answering.

"All of us have been pulled into this little world," I began."Mercer's. Maven's. Yours." He shifted uncomfortably. "You ask why I had to save him? It's because he would be one less victim to the whims of people like you. We're made to feel important when we're really just convenient. Vald's been playing the part of Mercer's bitch for how many years? And you would have had him die as that, when he wants nothing to do with the Guild. The same way you were oh so ready to accuse me when I don't want anything to do with it, either."

I maneuvered around him and he stopped me again.

"Wait, you misspoke. You said you don't want anything to do-"

"I know what I said," I tossed over my shoulder.

"Damn you, woman, you cannot say that I'm not trying for this!"

"_This_? There is no _this_!"

"Of course there is. We're-"

I spun on my heel so quickly that I nearly gave myself a whiplash, and before either of us knew it, my calm had broken and I was in his face, saying all kinds of unnecessary things that I wasn't supposed to even be feeling, let alone saying.

"_This_ is dead," I hissed. "_This_ is dead and doesn't want you to make it into some drougar. So, damn _you_, Brynjolf. You keep talking about love and you've got pretty words out the ass, but I'm done with these trust games. And that's without addressing the fact that you've been fucking Tonilia. So why don't you piss off, stuff a cork in your fucking mouth and let me live my life."

He was stunned into silence. But not for long.

"Rontu, I-"

"Brynjolf!" my brother barked. I was glad for it. "I need to speak with you."

"Here I come," he called, giving me a lasting look before walking to see what Jarsha wanted.

I already knew it was bullshit; he was just being a good brother.

I smiled softly to myself as I made my way into the Ragged Flagon and sat down to a pint of mead.

The smile left when Tonilia sat down in front of me.

"What do you want?" I asked irritably.

"To help you," she said simply. I put my cup down. "Brynjolf is in love with you, Rontu. That won't ever fade away; I hope you know that. But that doesn't mean it's. . .healthy. For either of you."

I bobbed my head up and down.

"So, what are you proposing exactly?"

"I. . .well, I don't mean to sound rude or bitchy. But I sincerely and genuinely think its in your best interest to. . .well, to. . .leave."

"Yes, I know," I said, taking a drink. "And I intend to."

"What?" She looked bewildered. "When?"

"Tonight, actually. Saving Vald is my last hurrah."

"He will try to stop you."

"That's why it's a secret."

"Even when you're gone, he'll search for you," she pointed out.

I paused, thinking.

"You're right about that one," I agreed, taking another drink.

_Even if it was by your shadow, I would know you._

"Listen," she said suddenly, her eyes bright yet serious. "It's something of a stretch. But, I know how to keep him from recognizing you."

I put down the pint and trained my eyes on her.

"I'm listening."

"No. You're insane if you think I'd ever, _ever_-"

"It's not your choice to make. She's a grown woman, Jarsha," Paia argued. "It will all be fine." She turned worried eyes on me. "It will all be fine, won't it?"

I didn't respond, only exhaled and looked to the woman waiting for my response on the decks of the Ragged Flagon.

"I'm ready."

"Very good. Yes," the woman, Galathil gushed. "As long as you're sure. It is no small thing, to submit yourself to the flesh-sculptor's knife So," she said, brandishing said knife. "Beauty or hideous deformity? Nothing is beyond my skill."

I swallowed. Hard.

"Let's start with my hair," I said hoarsely. "I want-I need it gone. Not bald, but gone. Shaved."

"Done and done," she lilted.

I shut my eyes, hearing the snip and feeling the fall of my appearance falling away from my self.

In spite of the sun, I kept my hood up as I waited by my horse for Paia. Even though Brynjolf would never recognize me, I kept feeling that he would follow her, and realize what I had done.

It was his reaction to this that scared me more than his reaction to my leaving.

Finally, she came trotting up from the direction of Riften on a grey-dappled mare. I met her on the crossroads.

"Well?" I asked anxiously. "What happened?"

"He is beside himself with grief," she reported, carefully gauging my expression. I suppose she would always be less used to my new face than I. "We were all in the Flagon when he woke, and started looking for you. He wanted to talk to you."

"Then what?"

"He burst in from his rooms, determined to see you. And we were all just sitting there, having long-since told the others of what you'd done. It was just a matter of telling Brynjolf." She wet her lips. "He came up to me when no one responded to him, yelling Where is she, where. I didn't answer. Jarsha got in between us and told him you were gone. Brynjolf called him a liar. Jarsha showed him your hair. Brynjolf called him a traitor. I've never seen anyone so. . .so. . ."

"So what?"

"So. . .broken. In pain. Brynjolf started putting two and two together and realized the whole Guild was in on you splitting. He grew angry. He called them all traitors. They tried to block it when they noticed him notice the disturbance in the crowd, but he pushed them all aside to see the sculptor. That was the final puzzle piece for him, but he was still in denial. He tried to question her, but she was still in shock herself. She kept mumbling 'Beauty or hideous deformity. . .she chose a bit of both', and cryptic things like that. I was when she referred to you as her best work ever that Brynjolf lost it. He cursed her, he cursed us all. He left to find you, and once he was gone, I left too, so he wouldn't follow. . .Rontu? Are you crying?"

I was, and I made no effort to hide it. Who knew when I'd get to openly weep again?

"Don't be ridiculous," I sobbed. "Men don't cry."


	12. Chapter 12: Legend

**Hullo, everybody! It's here, the first of instance of Rontu appearing as a man. I haven't decided whether it's permanent or not, but just to clarify, she's only changed her face, not her genitalia or anything. And she doesn't look bad. At all. So worry not, my friends. I look forward to the reviews, and I hope you enjoy. -LR**

It was snowing.

The sky was a white canvas blotted with brief grey clouds and the sun brightened some over others.

I took in the view of the Stormcloak capital, Windhelm from my position on a nearby hill. I had finally made up my mind on where to go. Even though it was just North of Riften, it provided the perfect hiding spot. Brynjolf hopefully believed that I wanted to be as far enough away from him as humanly possible, and would search farther than I had gone.

I was right over his nose, technically speaking.

I spurred my horse on towards the city, trying to ignore the irony that despite literally being warmer than I had ever been in Skyrim, in terms of clothing, I had never been more cold.

In order to travel better in disguise, I had left my Hammerfell clothes in Riften, having traded them in for things my brother purchased: steel armor and a big, dark blue wool scarf to replace my blue, cotton Alik'r hood. I often had to rub my eyes, because Galathil had given me glass lenses to make it seem like my pupils held color. They itched like hell, and I couldn't really see anything.

But it was worth it.

I brought my mare to heel at the Windhem stables, ignoring the cold and calculating stares of the Nord guards. I sighed and draped the navy scarf around my shoulders and face in the fashion of an Alik'r hood.

All this time I'd been complaining about the attitudes towards foreigners in this land, and here I was, walking into the City of Racist Fucks.

_Nice, Rontu. Nice._

I left my horse with them, paying for a rubdown and a place for Allie's tack. Then, I headed into the city, Father's Will strapped to my back. It was gray and grim, many of the people wearing rags and living in the slums. Even with my glass lenses, I noticed the harassment of a grey elf by Nord residents, and still more cold stares directed at me.

Then, came the whispers.

"Yea, I see 'im. He'll be here to take our gold, and our women, most like."

I blushed furiously, tightening my grip on my duffel bag.

I hadn't asked for anything special; I just wanted to be turned into a man. Galathil had said "Beauty or hideous deformity". She turned me into. . .well. . .a pretty boy.

I continued walking, trying desperately to not make eye-contact with anyone, until I reached my destination: the Hall of Kings.

Joining the Stormcloaks had been Paia's idea.

She figured if we helped the Nords to overthrow the Aldmeri Dominion, and eventually, if we succeeded, they would help overthrow the elves in Hegathe.

It was a stretch, yes. . .but it wasn't like I had anyplace else to go.

I reached the peak of the stairs and started walking towards the heavy doors.

"Hey." I stopped, turning my head slightly towards the voice behind me. A guard. "What's your purpose here?"

"I want to join the Stormcloaks," I said simply. He was silent, so I continued walking towards the doors to the Hall of Kings.

"Wait," came another voice. I stopped again, sighed and turned to face them. There was, indeed, two Stormcloak soldiers watching me. "You can't join the Stormcloaks."

"And how's that?"

"A frail thing like you? Just how old are you, boy?"

"Old enough," I retorted. I gave them my back, only to come face-to-face with another guard who had materialized in front of the doors. "You're in my way."

"Your way is behind you."

"Come back when you've some muscle on your sword arm."

This comment made them all laugh, and I stepped forward. The soldier before me gripped the hilt of his blade, and their laughter ended.

"Don't make me repeat myself."

I narrowed my eyes, flexing my fingers. I couldn't kill these men; that wouldn't do at all. But that didn't mean that I would leave, or let them kill me.

"Make a move, boy. We're waiting on you."

Just as they began to advance, and I dropped my duffel, a fourth Nord voice boomed out.

"_WHAT DO YOU FOOLS THINK YOU'RE DOING_?"

The men whirled around to face the intruder, while I let my heart rate slow down.

"Ralof," the second man blurted. "We were-"

"Shut up, Kieran," snarled the blond-haired Nord. He carried his helmet in the crook of his arm and was his armor was decorated in honors. "I'd be damned if I couldn't figure it out." He turned his blue gaze on me. "Come with me, lad. You claim you want to be a Stormcloak." I gave a nod and he turned to others. "And who are you to deny him? Nolan? Bjorn? Kieran?" He gave the others a lingering look before clapping me on the shoulder. "You're with me, lad."

He disappeared inside the Hall of Kings.

I snatched up my bag, giving each of the three Stormcloaks a glance of my own before following behind Ralof.

"Thank you," I said after catching up to him.

"You don't owe me thanks," he smiled. "But tell me, lad: what did you intend to do if I hadn't come along? Kill them?"

"Nothing like that," I said with a small smile. "I figured I'd just seriously incapacitate them."

"And then join them as a Stormcloak?" He chuckled. "You're funny lad. We could use someone like you in our resistance. That is, of course, if Galmar allows it."

Galmar Stone-Fist was the opposition I anticipated, coming into the Stormcloaks. I'd heard tell of foreign soldiers who'd had trouble joining up. They recalled having to harvest the teeth of an Ice Wraith, just as any Nord had to.

I harvested the teeth of two Ice Wraiths. Just in case he needed persuasion.

As I mentioned before, I looked scrawny for a man, and pretty. I'd be skeptical of me, too.

"You mean to join us then, boy?"

Galmar Stone-Fist was a gruff giant of a man, made for battle. His age did nothing to deter his size, strength and skill, it only implied his experience in warfare. He wore the bear-skin pelt of a Stormcloak commander with pride.

"Yes. I do."

I had been trying to keep my responses as brief as humanly possible to prevent anyone from doubting my gender from my voice. I was starting to realize that it made me appear short and blunt and rude. I didn't mind it; it would ward people off, keep them from learning my secret.

Galmar seemed to consider that persona now.

"Well. I expect it of any Nord soldier to take an Ice Wraith's teeth to prove himself. I suppose it's only fair to ask the same of you."

I held out the bag of teeth.

"You expect it. And I deliver."

The corners of Galmar's mouth seemed to turn up, but I couldn't really be sure. He gestured for Ralof to take the bag and then to empty it.

"You don't like to waste time. I respect that." He approached the long table of the hall, where the pile of teeth lay, and inspected one. "Well. I've no reason to reject you now, boy. Don't give me a reason."

I nodded.

"Ralof," Galmar called, and the soldier stepped forward and took my duffel.

"Follow me," he said. "I'll show you to the barracks."

There was nothing but animosity between myself and the other Stormcloaks.

Even when I was in the room, I could hear the comments and snide remarks. But to me, it was just more of the same. In Hegathe, I had been judged and jeered at while training because I was a girl. So at least this was something familiar.

I was unpacking my bag when the three soldiers from before towered over me.

"So Ralof showed you around?" Kieran said smirking. I remembered him by his voice, and now I saw that he had long chestnut brown hair and dark brown eyes and wore his beard trimmed down. He was obviously the leader.

"He did."

"And did he show you the training ground?"

I cast him a wary glance.

"Is this the part where _you're_ supposed to?"

"You're not as stupid as I expected. For a pretty boy, I mean. " This from Nolan. He had short-cropped blond hair and green eyes, and was lithe where his friends were powerfully built. I wasn't sure, but I assumed he was allowed to remain due to his smarts.

"Enough!" Bjorn bellowed. He was obviously all brawn and no brains; a true man mountain of wild black hair, beard and eyes. "This little prick wants to be a soldier, well let's get right down to it."

"You'll forgive Bjorn," Kieran smiled. "He's just anxious." He crossed his arms. "I guess you'll be wanting to see the training field then."

I sighed.

But still, I grabbed my Father's Will.

"In battle, you must be ready to anticipate anything," Keiran was saying, as he paced around me. "Even, for example, being surrounded by opponents."

He drew two steel swords and turned them expertly in his hands; a dual-wielder. Nolan was equipped with a longbow and iron arrows. Bjorn grinned wickedly and gripped his war-hammer in both hands.

"You're sure you want to use real weapons?"

"Do they use wooden swords on the field?" Nolan countered. "When you're taken down, stay down. Those are the only rules."

I sighed for the umpteenth time that day, and withdrew Father's Will from my back.

A group of spectators had gathered around us, and Ralof pushed to the front.

He glanced from them to me and back. . .yet did nothing. It took me a moment, but I knew why. I was a man now. And the only constant factor about men was always having to prove that they were men.

The glass lenses were burning now, but I didn't dare take them out. My eyesight was betraying me, so I shut my eyes, and focused on my other senses.

"GRAAAAAAAAAHHH!"

Bjorn. It had to be. He was the type to announce his attack with either the loudness of his movements, or by his own excitement to fight. He was behind me and had advanced two steps, so I moved five steps forward; his swing would definitely count for two.

True to form, I heard and felt the thud of his war-hammer behind me. I would have to retaliate now, while he had just finished hefting that thing about, so I did. I retraced my steps and jabbed backwards with the hilt of my greatsword with all my might, until I heard him grunt and double over.

Just as he did, I heard Nolan's breath hitch to my left: he must have been notching an arrow. I only knew that because Paia had the same habit of holding her breath before taking a shot. I advanced on him, hopping lightly to my left, and then to my right so he'd never be able to place a clean shot.

I was also effectively backing him into a corner. When I was close enough, I opened my eyes to find him aiming directly at my head, and ducked down, flipped my sword, grasping it by the blade, and slid the hilt between his stance. I tugged on it hard, effectively tripping him over the handle, and he lurched forward, feet first.

Now only Keiran was left.

The dual-wielder had hung back to get a sense of how I moved; he was smarter than I'd given him credit for. Now, he lunged.

I was on the defensive, blocking attack after attack with my greatsword as his blades came at me in a flurry of movement; I was running out of ideas.

My blade was longer than his; he couldn't do me any damage if I kept my distance. I tried to move, but he followed. I would have to take the offensive. I backed away as quickly as I could while drawing my sword up to its full height above me before bringing it down hard.

As expected, he leapt away, and I recovered quickly and came up swinging. Once left. Once right. Once left. Once right. It was taking a lot of stamina, but it wouldn't be much longer before I ended this. When he next backed away, I jumped forward instead of swinging again, one hand gripping the hilt of my sword and the other gripping the blade.

Keiran was shocked at this; it wasn't the move he was anticipating, and as I hit him, his blades dropped to the ground.

I sat on his stomach with my blade poised at his throat, the both of us heaving for breath. His brown eyes searched mine bitterly, bewilderedly. I stepped off and away from him, re-sheathed the blade, and stalked off the field.

My footfalls were my only accompaniment; the audience had long-since been shocked into silence.

"Here you are!"

A buxom tavern girl placed a mead before me with such a sugary tone that I wanted to choke her.

"I didn't order one."

"No, you didn't," came Bjorn's booming voice. "We did."

My once solitary table was now surrounded by other soldiers, brusquely pulling their chairs up alongside mine in Candlehearth Hall.

"Bjorn," I said, perplexed. "Nolan. Kieran." Each man grunted a greeting at his name. "What are you doing here?"

"We were hard on you," Kieran shrugged. "And sorry for it. We talked down to you and treated you unlike a warrior. That was wrong."

"Especially since you knocked the three of us on our arse," Bjorn grunted.

"In truth, it was Ralof's idea," Nolan smiled, as he and Ralof joined us. "He mentioned you were up here, so we decided to join you."

"Hey! More mead, and a meal here for Master, eh. . ." Bjorn looked at me quizzically. "What is your name, anyway?"

"Damn," Ralof muttered. "Even I didn't ask."

"It's. . ." I chuckled to myself. "My name is Na'el."

"Na'el," Bjorn nodded. He cupped his hands around his mouth and bellowed again. "All that shit I said for Master Na'el! Good to meet you."

"Yes, well met."

"Nice to meet you, brother."

"Well met, Na'el."

"So, what's your story?" Kieran asked, sipping his mead. "You're a Redguard aren't you?" I nodded. "And, where from?"

"Hegathe."

"Hegathe," he repeated. "The damn elves took over there, too. What brings you here?"

"I-Well, I was looking for. . .someone." I was stumbling over my words and thoughts. I had no idea what to tell my new brothers, or how much.

"Ah," Bjorn nodded. "A girl, most like."

_Sure, let's go with that._

"Y-yes. A girl. She escaped Hegathe with her friend. Now, it's. . .just a matter of finding her."

"What's she like, this girl?" Kieran asked.

"She's. . .very proud. Sometimes stubborn. She puts family above all, and she misses Hegathe. She's also hurting, in her heart."

"Some other man beat you to her," Nolan inferenced.

I nodded.

"Yeah. . . I suppose he did," I mused. "After that, she'd had to. . .separate from me. And I'm afraid I'll never see her face again."

"What's her name?" Ralof asked.

"Rontu."

I blurted it out without thinking.

"Pretty," Nolan nodded approvingly. "I believe it means '_Wolf Eyes_', does it not?"

I was impressed.

"Yes, yes it does."

"And what about your name?" Bjorn pressed. "What does 'Na'el' mean?"

"'Na'el'?" This brought me back to the reason I'd chosen it, and I grinned. "Na'el means 'Toothless'."

They laughed uproariously, causing me to grin in return.

"I'm sure it ain't your real name," Kieran chucked. "But it's good enough for us. Bjorn here had to change his, too, out of embarrassment."

"Keiran, don't you dare-" the big Nord warned.

"What was it before?"

"It was-"

"It were Agatha," Bjorn ground out, and the others fell to pieces around him. "If it's going to be said, I'll have it said on my own terms, damn you."

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the tavern girl returning with a few friends, and my new brothers prepared to receive them.

"Oh-ho. Look out lad. Seems like Susanna's taken a liking to yeh." Bjorn straightened up in his seat like some excitable school boy, grinning like a fool. "Suzie!" he boomed. "Why haven't you been to see me."

"I see you too often, if you want to be honest," she smiled slyly, and turned to me. "Hello, handsome." Oh, shit. "Haven't seen you around before. What's your name?"

"Na'el."

I kept my face as stoic as humanly possible, but I was dying of laughter on the inside. This was too. Fucking. Hilarious.

"Na'el. . ." she tried, and the other girls swooned. Swooned? Sighed? I don't fucking know. "Just Na'el? No surname?"

"Na'el's enough for me."

Gods damnit, I seemed like some dark, mysterious stranger! And, if these women were like any of those I had known in Hegathe, then they each thought they were the one to bring me to my knees.

Fat chance.

"Where are you from?" asked a leggy brunette from Bjorn's lap. From Bjorn's lap, yes, but her blue eyes were fixed on me.

"Hegathe," Kieran said for me. "He's in Skyrim searching for his lady love. They've been separated."

"_Cock-blocker!_" Bjorn fake-coughed.

Nolan eyed his friend quizzically.

"I'm sorry, d'yeh want him to be unfaithful?" he asked.

"Man's gotta do what a man's gotta do," Bjorn shrugged. "The woman shouldn't have let this pretty bastard out of her sight."

"Hear, hear," piped up the quiet redheaded leaning against Nolan. She raised her brows at me. I stared intently into my drink.

"Funny, Greta, I never pegged you for the foreign-loving type," Susanna remarked. The games had officially begun, and I was ready to be entertained.

"Well, Suzie, you know how it is. When I see something I like. . ." he eyes flicked pointedly at me. ". . .I go for it. Especially when it looks as good as he does."

"Elaborate, friend."

"He's got a strong jaw. His eyes are angular, they're exotic. I like his hair color, too, that reddish brown. And he's not so brash and big as these Nords; he's slim, and quick. He watched where the others talk. Quiet-like."

"And then, there's always his face," the brunette pointed out. "I've never seen eye-lashes that long on a boy before. Pretty eyes, pretty lips. He's got a handsome nose, too. And I like his scars," she said, referencing the cut above my brow and the symmetrical long lines cut onto my cheeks.

"Don't forget his piercings, Falla," Suzie mused, studying me. I had five in each ear, and a septum in my nose and one through an eyebrow.

I should have known better than to give Galathil free reign over my face.

"That's enough, girls," Kieran laughed. "You're making our friend uncomfortable. It's alright, Na'el; finish your food. We'll protect you."

This made the whole table erupt in loud, resonating laughter,

So loud, we almost didn't hear the scream.

Immediately, Kieran, Nolan, Ralof, Bjorn and I shared a look before jumping up from the table and sprinting outside. We followed the sound of raised voices to the decrepit cemetery of Windhelm, the guards, the mortified crowd and the girl's body.

"What's happened here?" Ralof demanded. "You. Elias. Speak."

"It's the Butcher," Elias replied hoarsely. "He's killed her. He's killed the Shatter-shield girl."

"Ye gods," Nolan breathed. "Kieran. . ."

"Which one?" Kieran ground out. Elias opened and closed his mouth. "_Which one, damn you_?"

We heard the howling scream again and turned to see two young women clinging to each other and sobbing. Kieran ran towards them immediately.

"Gods damnit-" Bjorn cursed, running after him. "Kieran!"

"What's wrong?" I asked. I didn't understand.

"It's Nilsine," Nolan said quietly, watching after Kieran and Bjorn. "Nilsine Shatter-Shield. Kieran's sweet on her. She's a twin. Elias only gave the surname. He could've killed either girl."

"Apparently not," Ralof observed as Kieran drew one of the women into his arms. "The gods are cruel. But not so cruel. It's the other, Friga Shatter-Shield, that he's killed."

"Who's_ he_?"

"_He_?" Nolan turned his eyes on me. "He's the Butcher, Windhelm's resident serial killer. With all our effort going towards the war, he's been our own domestic issue. He only kills women."

I shuddered and suddenly felt damn grateful that I had been turned into a man. I had thought to return to Rontu and explain everything at some point. But I wasn't so sure of that now. I'd have to warn Paia as well, when she caught up with me. She was supposed to come when the Guild got wind of Mercer.

"Does Galmar know of this?" I asked.

"Everyone knows of this," Ralof answered. "But we don't have the time or resources to prevent the Butcher's killings."

"We're still in training," I reasoned. "We have time. It's not like we're rushing off to battle."

"We will be, soon enough," Ralof said, looking towards Kieran and Bjorn. "He returns tonight."

"Really?" Nolan broke his own stare and focused his gaze on him. "You lie."

"Who returns tonight?"

"Unless our companion does have a silver tongue," Nolan said, watching Ralof warily."Then we should be expecting Ulfric Stormcloak. If I recall correctly, hadn't you been with the company, brother?"

"I was," Ralof said. He began to study his hands. "But something happened. Something I was told not to speak about until Ulfric's return. Now that he's come, I suppose it's about time to tell it." His gaze lifted. "Get Kieran and Bjorn. Meet me back at Candlehearth Hall. I will tell you everything."

"We were ambushed by Imperials along the East March borders." Ralof stood before the hearth in the inn, his back facing us as we sat around him. "Us Stormcloaks, a thief called Lokir and another man called. . ." He narrowed his eyes. "Funny, I never got his name. He was caught in the fray unawares, I expect. We didn't claim him, and neither did the Imperials. Anyway, we were captured and sent to Helgen for execution."

"Ye gods," Bjorn breathed.

"My thoughts exactly. The thief Lokir tried to run and got an arrow for it. The rest of us were all lined up for Sovngarde when the unthinkable occurred. . .the _unthinkable_!" Ralof's eyes had widened beyond belief and his tongue seemed to have thickened in his mouth; he was shell-shocked.

"Well, speak, man! _Speak_!"

Bjorn's booming voice shook him out of it, and he continued.

"It was-I saw-a _dragon_. A dragon attack Helgen!"

My blood went cold.

"By the Nine!"

"You lie!"

"What happened then?"

"In the confusion we managed to escape. I was separated from Ulfric and the company and found myself in the thick of it with. . .blast it, I'll just call the man Nameless. The dragon was having the time of his life, roasting Helgen. A big bastard he was, and black, blacker than any starless night. Blacker than coal. Blacker than darkness itself it seemed."

"How did you manage to escape?"

"Through the keep. I even met Hadvar, the traitorous prick. How he could side with those Imperial dogs I will never understand. But I digress." He sipped his ale and continued. "Nameless and I made it into the keep and I cut his bindings and asked him could he swing a sword. Gunjar's body -you remember Gunjar, don't you- his body was there; he'd been slain. Nameless claimed he was alright, so seeing as Gunjar no longer needed his gear, he took it."

"No one blames you, brother," Nolan reassured him softly. "I would've done the same."

"Thank you, brother," Ralof said grimly. "We surprised some Imperials who'd made it, too, and I'll be damned if he hadn't undersold how good he was. We made short work of them and headed downstairs where we found a torture room and met up with some of the company; Liza, Germond, Alfonse and Orel. We stuck into some more Imperials later, and Nameless and I were separated from the others again. At some point, we faced frostbite spiders and a cave bear. We left none alive and escaped to Riverwood where Gerdur took care of us."

"Gerdur, your sister Gerdur?" Bjorn questioned.

"Yes, my-" Ralof's eyes narrowed. "Yes, my _married_ sister Gerdur, you block-headed bastard."

"Don't let him distract you," Kieran said, after kicking Bjorn under the table. "Say your piece."

"I knew I needed to lay low. But I also knew that Riverwood wasn't safe with such a flimsy guard against a dragon. So I asked the man I'd escaped with to warn the Jarl of Whiterun."

"And did he?"

"I. . .I don't know. He said he would, but it was. . .I dunno, sardonic. Like he couldn't care less about the lives of innocent people. I don't want to seem like I'm holding it over his head, but I gave him a place to stay! Damn him, he should've. . .that's my sister! My _family_! I-"

Ralof cut himself off in evident frustration.

"What sort of man. . ." Nolan started, and exhaled. We all silently agreed not to give this bastard a second thought. "It's all true, then? About the dragon?"

"It's as true as I stand here before you," Ralof argued. "Dragons have returned to the world! And you know what comes with them. You know what the portents say."

"_And the Scrolls have foretold,/ Of black wings in the cold_," Nolan recited, staring into the flames.

"_That when brothers wage war come unfurled./ Alduin, bane of Kings, ancient shadow unbound,/ With a hunger to swallow the world_."

We sat in silence,the weight of the words upon us.

"We're all going to die," Bjorn reported good-naturedly. "Oh, well. I suppose a dragon's more deserving of my death than some limp-dicked Imperial."

The others began to laugh. I shook my head in disbelief. Not even a dragon could dampen their spirits.

"You've been quiet, Na'el," Keiran observed smilingly. "Dragon got your tongue?"

That set them off again.

"But seriously, friend," Ralof said. "Tell us: what troubles you?"

"The dragon, what else?" I admitted. "What does it mean? Is this the end? Can it be stopped?"

"The singers seemed to think so," Nolan grinned. "The rest of the song goes: _But a day, shall arise, when the dark dragon's lies/ Will be silenced forever and then./ Fair Skyrim will be free from foul Alduin's maw,/ Dragonborn be the savior of me_n."

"And does he exist?" I asked, my heart pumping uncontrollably. "This Dragonborn? Is he here?"

"I dunno," Bjorn said, stifling his laughter. "Why don't we ask him?"

My brothers in arms started cackling again, and I sighed. This was going nowhere.

"I suppose he must, if Ralof speaks true. And I know he does," Kieran said. "So, don't fret, Na'el. Your lady love is safe."

I wanted to smile. Really, I did. But it wasn't my blasted lady love I was concerned about.

She wasn't the one who'd had her tea dregs bind her fate to a flying inferno's.

"Ralof," I called, another thought suddenly plaguing me.

"What's on your mind?"

"If the Stormcloaks- I mean, if _we_ win the war, what happens to Ulfric?"

"Hm," Ralof thought on this, stroking his beard. "I suppose he'll be labeled 'usurper' by those still loyal to the Imperials. But ultimately, he'll ascend to the throne. Ulfric will be High King." He paused. "Are you alright, Na'el? You've gone pale."

This caused more uproarious laughter from my companions.

"A Redguard pale indeed!" Bjorn howled.

But I had paled, because it was all falling into place.

A shadow. Now a king. And soon enough. . .a dragon.

I thought on Ralof's words as I exited the Hall, leaving them to their jokes. I looked up at the starless sky and tried to imagine something, anything, darker than it.

I still can't.


	13. Chapter 13: Clues

**Hullo, everybody! You are supposed to open one present on Christmas eve, right? Life for Rontu/Na'el continues with the Bearclaw Squad of the Stormcloaks, made up of Ralof, Kieran, Bjorn and Nolan. What's up with this would-be King? And then, this selfish Dragonborn? And what about the Butcher? All in due time. Thanks for the reviews and for everyone who's inboxed me. You guys are so nice! Merry X-Mas eve, and I hope you enjoy! -LR**

I awoke in the middle of the night to a sound like thunder. It rattled the foundation of our barracks. It made the rafters whine in protest. It made me reach for my blade.

But then, it was over.

It didn't wake Kieran or Bjorn or Nolan or Ralof.

Only me.

I tried my hardest to go back to sleep.

/

"This en't like 'im," Bjorn growled worriedly. "This en't like Ralof at all."

"Settle yourself, brother," Nolan reassured him, crossing his ankles on top of the table. "He'll be in soon enough, I tell you."

In spite of Nolan's efforts, Bjorn would not be satisfied. It had been a few hours now, since Ralof had left to speak to the Jarl. The five of us had spent the early morning to the late afternoon training with the other squads. When we returned, Ralof was summoned to the Hall of Kings.

While this summons did not faze any of the others in Candlehearth Hall, we stopped all joking and drinking and smoking, and gave each other uneasy looks. After Ralof had told us about Helgen the night before, we knew there was no other reason for Ulfric to call on him.

"Arg, it's gettin' into the fifth hour! Enough with the damned waiting!"

"Be easy, Bjorn. It'd be best if we five acted natural," Kieran warned. "You're acting more like a bitch in heat."

"What'd you say, Kieran?" Bjorn grunted.

Kieran lifted his hands in mock-defense.

"Don't get me wrong, you're well within your rights to do so. . ._Agatha_."

My companions broke into laughter again, and even I gave a small smile around my mead.

"What is it with you damned Redguards that makes you so humorless?" Kieran asked. "You wouldn't know a joke if it gave you a good fucking. Why is that?"

"Dunno," I shrugged. "Maybe it's all the sun. What's your excuse, brother?"

Bjorn, Kieran and Nolan began cackling again and I shook my head, grinning as I took another drink of mead.

"I'm glad to find you all so happy in my absence."

Our heads all swiveled around to take in Ralof, shaking the snow from his cloak as he entered the Hall. "Does this mean I wasn't missed?"

"Ralof, you bastard! What took you so long?" Bjorn had ignored Ralof's question, already pinning him with his own.

"Ahh, you know brother. . ." Ralof said as he made a show of flapping his cloak before laying it across the back of his chair. ". . .business."

"I'll be damned," Kieran breathed. "Will you look at that medallion!"

Sure enough, Ralof had a new silver star added to his collection of honors.

"For my service and action in battle," he informed us proudly.

"A good thing they don't give stars for service and action in bed," I muttered. "You'd be piss-poor."

My brothers looked at me wide-eyed before exploding in praises and roaring laughter, all while pounding me on the back.

"The fuck did that come from, Na'el?" Kieran wanted to know, wearing a shit-eating grin.

"Bless you, laddy," Bjorn guffawed, swiping at his eyes. "You're turning into a right, proper Nord."

"Oh, I like that," I grinned. "All I need now are so many muscles that I can't turn my head and some straw for my hair, and I'll be set."

More mirth.

Divines, did I love being in Bearclaw Squad.

"Settle down, brothers," Nolan called. "Settle down. Or did you not want to hear tell of what Ulfric's had to say?"

That shut us all up.

Four pairs of eyes trained on Ralof hungrily.

"What?"

"You know perfectly well 'what', ye damned fool!" Bjorn groused. "What'd the Jarl have to say to ye?"

"About the medal?"

"Damn your medal man, we want to know about the dragons!"

"Oh, yes. That." Ralof sighed theatrically. "Well, I'd love to tell, boys, but my throat, it's parched, I can't-"

"Aww, damn you, Ralof!"

"I'll give ye something to drink, alright!"

"Fuck you!"

"Five meads, Susana!"

"Only five meads?" Ralof asked. "What're the rest of you going to drink?"

"Get on with the story, Ralof, your drink's coming!"

"Fine, fine."

All at once, Ralof's blue eyes went from gaming to dead serious.

"The man I mentioned before. He's been seen again."

"Nameless?"

"The very same. He was sighted in the hills by Whiterun. Him. . .and a dragon."

We collectively sucked in air.

"Killed 'im, did it? That's a better death than the son of a bitch deserved, if you ask me."

"No one did ask you, Bjorn, and that isn't what happened." He took a moment. "According to the Jarl, it wasn't the black _thing_ we saw at Helgen. But a dragon all the same. And-I can still hardly believe this- that bastard killed him! All on his own, he killed the dragon! And not only that, lads." Ralof took another second. "_He took its very soul_."

A hush fell around the room as we stared unseeingly at Ralof, in complete disbelief.

"That's it, then," Kieran shrugged. "The Dragonborn's an arsehole."

I had broken out into a cold sweat.

"But," I was choking on my own tongue. "But, how can we be sure? Okay, he killed a dragon, so what? What makes you so certain-"

"I'm telling you, Na'el, he absorbed the bastard's soul." Ralof argued. "Now, I wasn't there. But I know that bit wouldn't have been added if it wasn't true."

_Three, so say the dregs, and three, it shall be!_

My heart pounded in my eardrums.

A shadow. A king. A dragon.

_Dragons don't exist_, I said.

And now, they did.

_Dragons don't love humans, and humans don't love them,_ I said.

The first part had yet to be seen. But now that a giant dragon had suddenly assumed a human skin, anything seemed possible.

"Fate found a way," I muttered.

"Na'el?"

"Fate found a way," I repeated smoothly. "The dragons returned, and now, the Dragonborn's appeared, too. Fate found a way. Just like in the song."

They murmured in agreement.

"Looks like I won't get to die by a dragon," Bjorn said sadly.

The loud, warm laughter of my brothers returned.

"What else, Ralof?"

"Well, now I know for sure that Whiterun's Jarl, Balgruuf, was not warned of the dragons by Nameless. But I expected as much."

"We all did," I said bitterly.

"My fears now are what to do with a Dragonborn that doesn't care about anyone but himself." Ralof was clearly frustrated. "After killing the beast and taking its soul, there was a mighty sound. The Shout of the Greybeards, calling to him. Summoning him."

"I heard it," I blurted out. All eyes turned to me. "In the middle of the night. It was loud, but brief."

"Just so," said Ralof. "I heard it, too, but said nothing."

". . .So, I will die by a dragon?"

"A bad hero's as good as no hero."

"Fucking prick."

"They say he heard the Call, acknowledged the Call. But that he walked the other way."

"That. . .does not bode well for us, brothers," Nolan said. "To have all our lives rest in the hands of a man with a chip on his shoulder? I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy."

"Well, as chance would have it, this will destroy them as well as us. So, let's toast up brothers."

"Toast up?" I was incredulous.

"Unless there's any among us who can change the Dragonborn, then we're all screwed. Why mope about it? I've had a good run. Had some good girls. Drank some good mead. Seen some good places. Fought some good battles. Made some good friends." Ralof shrugged. "I don't intend to cry over my fate, Na'el. Whatever comes will come. Till then, you'll find me still running my good run."

I thought on this a moment before raising my tankard.

"To good friends," I said.

"Aye," Bjorn nodded brusquely. "To good friends."

"_To good friends_," we chorused.

I didn't let myself think for one moment that it was a lie, even though it sort of was. My run hadn't been good, it'd been piss-poor. I'd lost some good people. Killed some bad men. Robbed some others. Left my only home. Escaped from another. Searched for two brothers. Found only one.

So, hell yes, I disagreed with Ralof; I hadn't had a good run.

But he'd had a few things right, one of them being that I still had to keep running.

/

It was three days later that I first saw him.

We were standing amongst the crowd, awaiting our monthly pay. It wasn't much. But it was enough to live on. And, with my loot from the Guild, I sure as hell had nothing to complain about.

"_OOOH, NA'EEEEL_!" crooned Bjorn, the other laughing around him. "A rich man now, are we?"

"Rich enough for me," I smiled slyly. "Training's almost over."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning we should deal with the Butcher while we've the time."

"Not this again," Nolan said sucking his teeth.

"Yes, this again. It isn't right. What kind of army can claim to protect its people when it can't protect its people?" Nolan fell silent. I turned to Ralof. "You said you've known some good girls, right? Tell me, how long did you want to know them for again? And you, Bjorn? You've been wanting to kill someone for months. Why don't you take it out on the bastard who kills innocent women?"

I didn't address Kieran because he didn't need addressing. He was always the one behind me when this conversation came up. That shit with the Shatter-Shield girl had been too close of a call for him.

"We go after this prick," he hissed. "_Tonight_."

"Agreed."

"Agreed."

"Agreed."

That was when I saw him.

Ulfric Stormcloak.

He was maybe the second biggest man I had ever seen, next to Bjorn. And he looked every bit the

King he claimed to be, in blue fine clothes lined in fur. His movements were never wasted, they were quick and purposeful. He had long, dark blond hair and calculating blue eyes that drifted over his men as we stood in the yard. He said very little to Galmar as the man stood at his side, commenting on a few of the soldiers when Ulfric pointed them out with a question.

I about lost my shit when the next man they looked to was me.

"Redguard!" Galmar bellowed, and beckoned me to come to them.

I did so immediately, without sharing a look with my squad.

"Jarl Ulfric wishes to speak to you, boy."

I steadied myself and turned to the leader of the rebellion.

"Yes, my Jarl," I said,

"What is your name?"

"Na'el."

"Na'el." He nodded. "And are you, Na'el, a son of Skyrim?"

I sighed. _Not this shit again_.

"That depends on what you're asking."

"What do you mean?"

"If you ask if I'm a Nord, then no. I'm not. If you ask about my allegiance, then yes. I am."

"I see. What brings a Redguard to the Stormcloaks, Na'el?"

"I fought in the rebellion against the Aldmeri Dominion in Hegathe, my homeland. People fight still, but in vain."

"So you came here."

"To help the Stormcloaks win the civil war," I said. "And perhaps have made a good enough name for myself that I might request help in overthrowing them in my homeland."

"So you did have an ulterior motive, boy," Glamar sneered.

"No," I said. "The truth was my answer all along. You just never asked."

"_Insolence!_"

"Galmar," Ulfric warned. He turned back to me, his cold eyes now warm with mirth. "You don't hold any punches, Na'el. I appreciate that in a warrior."

"And you fight your own battles, my Jarl," I said. "I appreciate that in a King."

His mouth seemed to open in shock, but before he could react to my compliment, I excused myself from their company and returned to my squad.

/

"We're all here, then?"

"Fuck you, Na'el, there's but five of us, can't you count?" Kieran groused. "Open the damned door already, if you can. It's freezing out here!"

"Fine then."

I jimmied the lock of the old manor once owned by Friga Shatter-Shield, the twin sister of Kieran's beloved.

We spoke to her earlier in the day, and I found that while she was not as pretty as I had anticipated, she was sweeter and more gentle than any person I'd ever met, other than Paia. A florist, Nilsine Shatter-Shield was kind by nature and grieved her sister something fierce. It made me all the more incensed and desirous of punishing the Butcher.

I decided to start at Friga's manor, Hjerim.

The door suddenly clicked.

"I've got it!" I hissed.

"Well, open it, damn you!"

Bjorn immediately regretted saying that.

A foul odor of blood and must hit us full on as we burst into the house.

"_Ye gods!_" Ralof breathed. "The bastard's been staying in Friga's house!"

"What a sick fuck," muttered Nolan, kneeling by a dresser. "He's collected a shit ton of those 'Beware the Butcher' fliers. Remember those things?"

"There's blood everywhere," I breathed.

"I found this by the wardrobe," called Bjorn. A strange amulet with a disconcerting green skull dangled between his fingertips. "I think we oughta hold onto it."

"And I think you're right," I said. "Now, where's this wardrobe you mentioned?"

We followed him back to it.

"That's. . .odd," Nolan commented, cocking his head. "All the rest of Friga's furniture was thrown around. But not this."

"Open it up, Nol."

Bjorn would regret that, too.

It was a door, not a wardrobe. It had a false back. And it led us into a room lit up with candles, which made seeing the corpse, spattered blood and human bones all too easy.

"_Oh, treachery_!" Bjorn shouted before fainting dead away.

"I know this big son of a bitch did not just faint!" Kieran said in disbelief.

The rest of us covered our noses from the smell.

"Ye gods!" Ralof exclaimed. "What in hell? Is this an altar?"

"With soul gems," Nolan coughed. "This fucker isn't killing, he's experimenting!"

"We need to get Bjorn out of here, now!" I barked. "We need to leave. Take all the evidence we've found. Do not speak of this until we return to the barracks. We'll show what we've found to Galmar tomorrow."

"Agreed."

"Agreed."

"Agreed."

The four of us lugged our giant friend through the frost and snow back to safe grounds, never stopping until we did.

Despite having seen what I'd seen, I still couldn't tear my thoughts from the Dragonborn. Yes, he did pose a dilemma, but it was one I wasn't prepared for. So I would solve as many other problems as I could, for as long as they were in my power to solve.

Anything to keep from dealing with my own.


	14. Chapter 14: Brothers

**Hullo, everyone! Chapter fourteen, for you! Thanks for your reviews and inboxes on Chapter 13. And I know some of you are anxious about Brynjolf and Rontu/Na'el's love interests, but don't be. The romance shall return! I'll see if I can't pop another couple chapters out before New Year's. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy! -LR**

"I'm telling you, it's the damned court wizard!"

Nolan's eyes blazed bright green as he made his appeal to our group. I was the only one fully dressed, having washed the night before. I couldn't share a bath with the others for"religious reasons". Needless to say, as much as I loved my new companions, every day after they bathed was a free show for me. Hey, just because I looked like a man did not mean that I was one.

"And what makes you say that?" Bjorn asked, fitting his armor to his body.

"It all fits together," Nolan said, tying the ends of his towel around his waist. "Don't the wizard do crazy experiments all the time?"

"That en't grounds for an accusation, Nol," Bjorn grunted, shaking his wet hair like a dog.

"Use a towel, damn you!" Nolan yelped. "Look. The room was covered in blood. It had an altar. Embalming tools. Soul gems. That evil-looking amulet. And then, those journal."

The journals.

Ralof had seen them on our way out, one by the room of horrors and the other by where we found the Beware the Butcher! pamphlets. He'd picked them up with the edges of his shirt, too afraid to have them next to his own flesh.

The first was devastating. It spoke of Susanna, the tavern girl, and how close the Butcher had been to her, and that he had plans for her that he meant to enact that night. Kieran and I had sent Ralof and Nolan back with the evidence and Bjorn.

We stayed at Candlehearth Hall and gave the girls extra special attention.

If that one was devastating, the second was downright horrifying.

It contained ingredients. For flesh-magic.

**17 tendons and assorted ligaments 173 fragments of bone for assemblage approx.**

**4 bucket-fulls of blood (Nord preferred)**

**6 spoons of marrow (no more than 2 from a thigh)**

**12 yards of flesh (before cutting)**

The rest made little sense to us.

**star-scrying to the edge of the ice-mind**

**look to the lights where the souls dance**

**revealing the time when a spark will revive when the rotted unites under most skillful hands**

**(translation from Aldmer text, as interpreted by the Aylveids and first transcribed by Altmer. provenance and authority unknown)**

The list ended a few lines later with only one word: **soon.**

The five of us had been shocked into a disturbed silence.

"Maybe we should wait on the accusations," I suggested, kicking my feet up on the table. "This is some heavy, dark shit here. What if it isn't the court wizard, and yet, he gets his reputation stained with it? And more than that, I don't want to risk Ralof being apprehended if it turns out it isn't the wizard."

"True," Bjorn nodded. "We'll need our fifth."

"Especially since we'll be in battle in a few weeks," Ralof added smoothly.

So smoothly that his words didn't click immediately with us.

"What'd you say?"

"We'll see battle?"

"Why didn't you say so?"

"That's amazing!"

"The Jarl is very impressed with Bearclaw Squad," Ralof grinned. "He's seen how we fight. He's seen our interaction with each other on the field. He believes us to be ready."

"I coulda tole 'im that!" Bjorn boomed, grabbing us all in a crushing hug. "We're going into battle, lads! If the Imperials weren't taking it up the arse, then they will be soon!"

We laughed loud and hard and merrily, my brothers and I.

"There is a man we could see about the amulet, though," Nolan said.

"Who?"

"Ah, this Imperial rogue, Calixto. He runs this crap museum of bizarre shit, Na'el, you wouldn't believe what he-"

"The House of Curiosities," Kieran said, and nodded. "It wouldn't be a bad start. He'd probably know something about this thing."

"Then what're we waiting for?" Nolan asked.

"You," I snickered, and left the room, with Ralof, Bjorn, and Kieran following behind me, howling in laughter. Nolan was left alone, swearing after us, as he struggled into his clothes.

/

Calixto's House of Curiosities was just outside of the Gray Quarter, in the east side of Windhelm. I could tell that my brothers held some contempt for the owner, living so leisurely. Calixto was an Imperial in a city fully against his kind. He had lost his sister, Lucilla, a while back and they had used to be adventurers together. He was a swarthy man of long brown hair, and a fox-face. When Nolan had named him rogue, he hadn't been lying.

Brynjolf had been roguish and it was irritatingly attractive. On this man, it was odious.

"Gentlemen! Come in, come in!" He stood from his chair where'd he'd been nursing an ale. I wrinkled my nose distastefully. It was only nine o'clock. "What can I do for you?"

"Uh, we've come to-"

"-Is it a tour you want? I could do that, I could do that. Two septims from each of you, and we'll be off. Nothing you've ever seen before, or again, I can promise you!"

"We don't want a blasted-"

I touched Bjorn's bulging arm and he stopped, willing him to see the same broken, piss-poor man that I saw.

"We'd love a tour, Master Calixto. Whenever you're ready."

We poured ten septims into a bag and paid him.

He showed us an interesting assortment of ancient Nord embalming tools.

He brandished a soup spoon fabled to belong to Ysgramor.

He offered a look at the Dancer's Flute with the power to make people dance uncontrollably, but only with the password.

With each "artifact", Bjorn became increasingly agitated. The fuse had been lit with the commonplace embalming tools, and it exploded when Calixto was about to convey the password by mistake, but quickly remembers himself.

"Enough of this, damn you!" he roared. "I coulda dug those embalming tools from a burial site my own damned self, that Spoon of Ysgramor is a fucking fork, and that little bit about that damned flute is so dry I've half a mind to break you in half and leave it in one piece!"

The four of us looked at Bjorn aghast.

"Bj. . .Bjorn. . ."

He didn't pay me any attention, just sat there, heaving.

Calixto watched him, nonplussed, seemed to gauge that Bjorn's tantrum was done, then, he brought us to the Book of Fate.

"The writing in the book describes the destiny of its reader, so the words change from one person to the next. Some see only blank pages, and nobody knows why. Perhaps some of us are born with no destiny, or maybe the blank pages signify an imminent death." He smirked at Bjorn. "Why don't you have a look?"

Bjorn muttered some obscenities under his breath, but looked inside all the same.

"'S blank, just as I knew it would be."

"Or you face imminent death," Calixto suggested coyly.

Bjorn shot him a murderous look.

"Well, now I want a look," Kieran complained. "We should all check, and that will decide whether he's a charlatan or not."

Kieran's pages were blank, as were Nolan's and Ralof's.

I reached for the book.

"Best not, Na'el," Ralof said. "It's a fluke. Just like the rest."

"I'm not going to be left out, even if it is," I said stubbornly, and opened the book.

There it was on the first page.

**_You will be loved by a shadow, a king and a dragon._**

I sucked in my breath sharply, and flipped the page.

The same words appeared.

I kept flipping, and flipping and flipping and flipping.

I came upon the last page, and the prophecy had changed.

**_You will love a shadow, a king and a dragon._**

I slammed it shut, eyes wide, breathing hard.

"You alright, Na'el? Seen your destiny, have you?"

"No," I said hoarsely. "No. You were right, Ralof. It's a fluke."

"The real reason we came is to have you see this amulet," Nolan said, producing it. "What can you tell us about it?"

A gleam came into the Imperial rogue's eyes.

"Divines take me. It's a Wheelstone," he wet his lips. "Where did you find it?"

"Never mind that. What can you tell us?"

"Well, it's traditionally carried by court wizards, so I reckon it's probably a fake," Nolan discreetly elbowed me. I elbowed him back. "I'll take it off your hands for 500 septims."

My eyes met Ralof's immediately. We were both suspicious. Who gives tours of "astounding artifacts" for two septims per person, but would give 500 gold pieces for a random amulet as a starting price? Especially when he'd claimed it as a fake?

"Done," Bjorn boomed before I could stop him. He turned to us with a big grin. "A hundred septims, each of us, to compensate our wasted time."

The exchange was hastily made and we were set outside before I knew what had happened.

"Well?" Ralof asked irritatedly. "What now?"

"Let's follow our instincts," I said, "Specifically, Nolan's." I turned to them, as they eyed me quizzically. "Let's go see the court wizard."

\

"_Necromancy?_ I am a member of the College of Winterhold, in good standing! They haven't allowed necromancy for hundreds of years!"

Wuunferth, Ulfric's court wizard, was furious.

We had come straight to him from Calixto's and confronted him in his alchemy lab.

"What about your journal?" Nolan pressed. "Your amulet? You can deny the truth, Butcher."

"My what, now?" Wuunferth was appalled. "I've never kept a journal, I can assure you. What exactly did this amulet look like?"

"Black and green," Bjorn grunted. "The green part was painted to appear as a skull. We were told it was a Wheelstone. That mean anything to you?"

"Well, it's definitely not a Wheelstone. I can vouch for that," he said. "As for the design, I know it well. Or at least, I've heard of it. I would wager that carving once depicted a skull. That is the Necromancer's Amulet, of legend. It appears you were at least half-right," he sighed, lowering himself into a chair. "There is necromancy at the heart of this."

"Have you any idea what to make of this Butcher and his killings?" I asked. "Please. Master Wuunferth. We have to stop him."

He eyed me warily before nodding.

"I've been noting a pattern to when the killings happen," he said." Now that we know they're tied in to some sort of necromantic ritual, I think I know when the next might occur. Let's see." He rose from his seat and consulted a calendar near his work table. "From a Loredas of Last Seed until a Middas of Heartfire... it will happen soon." Wuunferth turned to face us, grave-faced. "Very soon. Keep watch in the Stone Quarter tomorrow night. That's almost certainly where the killer will strike next."

"Thank you," I said.

"No," he said with a weary smile. "Thank you. You had the chance to ruin my reputation. But you came to me. So, thank you."

We left, much of the weight of the Butcher off our shoulders.

\

I could not sleep that night, and sat outside, smoking some sour leaf Nolan had given me.

My mind was full of the fortune the Book of Fate had given me.

I had no doubts of its authenticity now, though my brothers might. Who knew why it delivered my destiny and not theirs? Maybe because I'd heard it before. I exhaled into the starry sky. Not that last part, though. That was new.

"You will love a shadow, a king and a dragon," I said to the night.

I was certain I had loved Brynjolf. More than certain. And some part of me still did. Still remembered him as he was, not as he became. Sweet. Attentive. Honest. Trusting. I heard that little voice inside me cautioning me not to think of him, but I didn't need that anymore. I was strong enough now, to think about my past with Brynjolf.

It had been nearly six months now.

I could scarcely believe it, but it was so. I found myself so changed.

That's what this land did to you, it change you.

That much was true of Jarsha. Of Brynjolf. Of me.

I was not the woman I was on the decks of that ship, or the woman who had grown her hair out for love. This land, this Skyrim took its frost and altered me, the way it altered all, and made me into a monster.

One that disappears from people's lives like smoke.

One that carves its face and becomes a man.

One that can make shadows and kings and dragons fall in love.

_Speaking of kings. . ._

"You've been watching for a while now," I said, leaning back on my left hand as I cradled my pipe against my lips with the other. "Did you want to speak to me, my Jarl?"

I felt Ulfric step from out of the doorway, coming to join me.

"Why do you stand watch? Hawkeye Squad stands tonight."

"I know," I said. "I couldn't sleep."

"There's little to be had," he nodded. "These are dark days."

"Yes. With the war, and then, the Butcher."

"I've heard tell that you're close to catching him."

"That we are. And we get closer every day."

"We," he repeated. "You mean Bearclaw Squad and yourself. Tell me, do you really see them as your kin?"

"I do, my Jarl."

He turned his head, cold blue eyes fixed on my profile.

"How is that?"

"Because war binds people together, Jarl Ulfric. I understand that as the only Redguard on your force, there is cause for suspicion. But when you fight alongside someone, there is something. A tie that can be severed. That transcends all."

He nodded in understanding.

"Yes. I know of what you speak. It's this bond that makes you fear for the others' lives over your own. I have felt it myself."

"That's because you fight your own battles, as I've said before," I said, drawing on my pipe.

"You are mistaken. I am usually here, in Windhelm."

"Of course you are," I said. "Tell me, Jarl Ulfric: when you were held captive in Helgen, was it your life you feared for? Or your soldiers?" He was quiet. "You don't have to be in the fray to fight your own battles. Your prayers, your mind, your heart is with your men."

We stared each other down in the shadows.

"You are by far the strangest man I have ever met."

"Should I be offended?"

"No."

"Then I'll let you continue."

"You are an enigma. You are a Redguard, yet you call Nords your brothers. You claim you only want to help Hegathe, yet you involve yourself with the Butcher. You claim to be low-born, yet you presume to counsel a Jarl of Skyrim."

"Ah," I said with a small smile. "So, _I've_ offended _you_."

"Not offend. Just confuse," he said. "I do not know if I should or can trust you. But your would-be brothers do."

"I would never do anything to wrong them."

"Finally, a straight answer."

I went red, and was glad he couldn't see it. I had been trying desperately to cloud myself from him. I didn't want the love of a good man, if it meant exposing my identity and later disappearing to be with a dragon.

"Forgive me, my Jarl."

"Nevermind that," he said dismissively, waving off my apology. "There are not many things I hate, Na'el, among them thieves, cowards and liars."

_Well, shit, I'm all three._

"Which am I?" I asked anyway.

"That is yet to be seen. But all truths do come to light, Na'el. I only hope that you are the good brother you seem to be when they do."

"You don't trust me."

"I don't trust anyone, because everyone has something to hide."

"So, why am I special?" I asked drily.

"Because unlike everyone else who's hiding something, you are so damn obvious." I was taken aback, and couldn't hide it if I wanted to. "Still. After watching you, I've decided you are not a threat. In fact, you're probably the least threatening of all the dangers I have to face with this rebellion. A baby snake, with no venom."

"But still a snake," I said sadly.

"Which is why I've been watching you. You've piqued my curiosity."

"I'm sure you say that to all the potential threats to your rebellion," I gushed sarcastically.

"Only the ones I don't have to fear," he said with (could it be?) a smile. "Goodnight, Na'el."

"Goodnight, Jarl Ulfric."

\

"Ralof. Tell me true. Is Ulfric Stormcloak a boy-lover?"

I asked him this later on that day, as we awaited the appointed hour to face the Butcher.

Ralof's ale exploded from his mouth like a hurricane, and he cast his eyes all around the inn before they trained on me with a wild look. The others had not heard us; as usual, they were in the midst of a jape.

"_What on Akatosh's green earth gave you that idea?_"

"I've never heard of him being with a woman," I shrugged. "In Hegathe during wartime, generals and kings visited their wives more often than in peacetime. I thought it'd be the same here, but he sees no wife, no would-be queen. Wouldn't an heir strengthen his claim?"

"Ulfric has no time for romance, he's in a rebellion, not just a war. It's more time consuming."

"Is it now?" I muttered pointedly, watching Galmar Stone-Fist as he trailed his gaze after the red-haired tavern girl, Greta. "Because everyone else has time for it."

"Na'el. . ." Ralof sighed and drew his chair closer. "In truth, he doesn't want any more drama than this war right now. Women complicate things. You know that. A wife can come later for him, most-like. Until then, well. . .he's a man. I'm sure he sees tavern girls, just as the rest of us do."

I thought on this, but Ralof was checking the time.

"It's dark out, now. Na'el, round up the lads. We've a date with the Butcher."

\

The Stone Quarter was deathly quiet. Quiet like you've never heard.

I saw the woman immediately, as she was the only other living soul. . .her, that is, and the figure creeping up behind her.

"_NOLAN!_" I yelled, pointing.

He could not see, I knew he couldn't, but he notched and loosed the arrow as I directed him, and it hit its mark. The woman whirled about and screamed, but she was unhurt. We ran over to her side.

"Are you alright?" I questioned, taking her firmly by the shoulders. "Miss? Are you hurt?"

"You. . .you saved me," she babbled.

Before I could get in another word, she grabbed me by the ears and kissed me full on the mouth. As soon as I registered what was happening, I wrenched her off, as my brothers burst out in laughter.

"The hero's got his damsel, does he?"

"What would your lady love say?"

"Come here, lads!" Kieran called. "You won't believe this shit."

We came up to where he kneeled and looked on the body.

"_Well, I'll be damned_," Bjorn breathed. "It's Calixto! The bastard was the killer all along!"

\

**_Soon enough, my sweet Lucilla, you will be with me again. Normally when such words are written it is because the love left behind is soon to depart, but in my case, I hope to soon bring your spirit back into my world, for it was you who loved this world so much, not I._**

**_I continue to collect your new form from the ragged bits around Windhelm. If they only knew what destiny would soon grace their bodies, with your spirit imbuing them with higher purpose, they would surely thank me for the great gift I give them. I reserve for them a place of beauty alongside your heart._**

**_The day draws near. Soon I will hold you. And I will show you this and it will be as delivering a long-forgotten letter to a weary traveler._**

**_Love always, Calixto_**

\

"That's it," I finished, shutting the third journal we'd found when searching Calixto's home. "He'd done it to bring back his sister. Bring her back to life."

The Jarl was grave-faced and silent, like the rest of his court, as he took in this information. Finally, he spoke, rising up from his throne and looking so much like the good king I thought my heart would break.

"Thank you, Bearclaw Squad, for your assistance to the city, and to me. You will not go unrewarded. The Butcher was an issue I could not deal with alone. You five noble, honorable men have gone above and beyond necessity to exact justice. Windhelm owes you its thanks."

He dismissed the court and my squad, all but me.

"You did a good thing, Master Na'el," he said. "I may have misjudged you."

I smiled.

"Do not put your guard down," I said, and he smiled back. I remembered myself, and cleared my throat. "I can't forgive his actions," I said, lifting the journal, "but I think I can understand them. I have lost brothers, too, though not in the same way."

"And would you go to the same lengths to have them back?"

"I don't know," I said. "Maybe. I don't know."

Ulfric nodded, his gaze piercing me.

_Don't look at me like that._

"You answer truthfully," he said. "For a baby snake."

I laughed.

"Didn't I tell you not to put your guard down?"

"I'm putting you on my front line," he said.

I recoiled in shock.

"Are you not hearing me at all?"

"Don't worry, I don't trust you," he said smilingly. The irony was not lost on either of us. "But I know you trust your Squad, and that they trust you. I've had an axe sent to Jarl Balgruuf the Greater, in Whiterun, a message for him to choose a side in out fight," he said. "Regrettably, he returned it."

"So now what?"

"So now what," he repeated, and smiled coldly. "So now, we make war. Show me I can trust you, and I will. You leave tomorrow at dawn."

"To do what?"

"To launch the assault on Whiterun. What else?"


	15. Chapter 15: Honor

**Hullo, everyone! Once again, thanks for the supportive messages and the feedback. This chapter's somewhat short, but it gets interesting enough. I hope you enjoy - LR**

We five stood shoulder to shoulder in the Hall of Kings.

We had fought well.

We had been victorious.

Ulfric meant to honor us before the company.

It was the five of us of Bearclaw Squad who had lead the sack of Whiterun in the name of Ulfric Stormcloak and the rebellion.

I glanced at our leader, and got only his profile as he looked out towards the Stormcloak host, as Galmar raved on and on about our prowess. He was not a hard man to look at, Ulfric. What with the noble brow, square, solid jaw, and his cool demeanor. He seemed to notice my gaze, and began to turn towards me, so I focused forward once again.

I could never make eye-contact with him again.

Not after the previous night.

I shook myself out of it as Galmar began to address us.

"_Ralof, the Reaper_!" he called.

The five of us shared a look. We remembered that instant.

\

"I'll be damned! This fucker just broke my blade in two!"

I looked to where Ralof stood on the Whiterun battlements, facing down a giant. No sword. No shield. No anything, he'd lost them both.

"_Ralof, move_!"

It was a stupid thing to say, there was no where for him to go.

"I can't, I-Na'el, I need something, anything, _please_-"

I tossed him the first thing my fingers touched; a sickle attached to a long pole.

Ralof did his work with it.

\

The company made their applause as Ralof accepted his latest honor. Galmar continued on.

"_Kieran Heart-Eater_!"

We nearly burst out laughing.

\

"_FUCK!_"

"Kieran, let's get a move on!"

"I can't, my axe is stuck in this bastard's chest!"

The four of us stopped to observe Kieran's dilemma.

"Well, give it a good tug, man," Bjorn bellowed, irritated.

Kieran did as he commanded. and was rewarded with a backsplash of blood and flesh, which covered his face and open mouth. We were shocked stupid.

"_AUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGHHHHHHHH_!" he screamed, dropping the axe, and flailing his arms. "_AUUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGHHHHHH_!"

He ran past us, up towards the Cloud District of the city, screaming.

"Divines above," Ralof said, as we watched him. "He's eaten the bastard's heart!"

\

"_Bjorn the Bear!_" Galmar roared, and Bjorn raised his arms and roared back as the other soldier burst out in cheers.

\

"Hold him, Bjorn, he knows where the Jarl is hiding," Nolan said.

The Imperial soldier writhed in Bjorn's massive arms, hissing and spitting.

"I'll never tell you anythin'!" he snapped. "Thrice damned Stormcloaks! Don't join them, they said, don't join them. Now I know why: 'cause you lot are all limp-cocked sister-fu- GACK!"

". . .Bjorn?"

". . .Yes?"

". . .Did you just kill him. . .with a bear hug?"

". . .Yes."

\

"_Nolan Fleet-Foot_!"

\

"Nol! Where's Nolan!" Kieran whipped about wild-eyed. "_NOLAN_!"

"He may have fallen-"

"Don't say that, don't." He looked about once more. "We'll keep on moving. To the Jarl's palace!"

We forced the doors open to reveal a figure standing in the Hall, Imperial dead littering the floor about him. He turned to face us.

"_Nolan_!" Kieran reached him, pulling him into his arms. "I thought you were dead! Why weren't you with the front line?"

"You bastards are too slow," Nolan said with a wicked grin. "I _am_ the front line."

\

"_Na'el Death-Prince_!"

\

"You lot wait here; I'll clear the way."

"Don't be long, Na'el."

I headed up the stairs of the lightless palace, taking out my glass lenses to better rule the dark.

"They say a Redguard prince rides with the Stormcloaks. A savage thing."

I paused in my slow creep up the stairs towards the Jarl's quarters. Three final guards stood back to back in the darkness, drinking mead weapons held out towards the shadows.

"I've heard," added the second, "that he made a pact with Sheogorath himself. The daedric master adopted him as his prince. He commands his father's shadows, uses them to kill at his behest."

There was silence as they absorbed these words, and it was cut short by the first man's laughter.

"Cor! You hearing this cheeky bastard, Lewin?"

There was no answer.

"Garret?"

No response.

The first man grew frantic.

"Lewin!" he shouted. "Garret!"

"_Me_," I whispered shortly, and introduced him to the dark.

\

I bowed my head as Galmar bestowed me with a necklace of bear claws, my first award as a Stormcloak.

"For their courage in battle," Galmar boomed. "For their valor, honor and unwavering loyalty, these five men now receive what they are owed. They have done their duty. Let them be s standard for you all. _Kin and Country_!" he bellowed.

"_Kin and Country_," the hall of soldiers thundered back.

Galmar dismissed us then, but as I trailed after my Squad, he stopped me.

"Not you, boy," he grunted. "Ulfric wants a word."

_Of course he did. Shit._

I stayed behind, and looked on desperately as my brothers were herded out with the rest, to Candlehearth Hall, I knew. I would've given both my eyes to be able to follow. But, then again, this conversation was long overdue.

I took a deep breath and followed Galmar to Ulfric's private quarters. I trained my eyes on his back, trying to gauge whether the Jarl had told him or not. Before I could, we reached the man himself.

"Master Na'el," he said, in that low, drugging bass of his. "Galmar. You may leave us."

Master. . .so he hasn't told.

As soon as the door shut behind Galmar, I flung myself on my knees before Ulfric.

"Please, please, please, please tell no one," I begged the floor, eye wild. "I plead you, give me your confidence!"

"Na'el," he sighed. I squeezed my eyes shut. "Na'el. My eyes are up here."

Tremblingly, I raised my face and my gaze to meet his.

"Please," I said again. He studied me, which I say only because there is no other word for it. He seemed just as shaken up as I was. "Don't stare at me, please, I can't-"

"You can't?" he half-laughed, "I can't. How am I to wrap my mind around the fact that you're a. . . you're a. . ."

"A woman," I finished, once more dropping my gaze. "I'm sorry. That night, I-"

"Yes," he nodded. "That's a good place to start."

\

We had returned from the sack of Whiterun bathed in blood and revelling in the fact that it was not our own. Ralof, with his proud officer's armor, striding before the rest of us to sing praises of our deeds. It was at his word that the ceremony was prepared, and that the singers of the Candlehearth Hall were inspired with their new material.

In the middle of the night, when all were asleep, as we had talked into the small hours of the morning, I slipped from the company, all passed out around the Hall of Kings, and headed to the baths.

I thought I was alone, as I stripped myself of mail, jerkin, trousers and boots. I thought I was alone, as I exposed myself to the room. I thought I was alone, as I succumbed to the hot water.

I wasn't.

There was a clatter of armor, and I whirled around to see Ulfric, standing on the side of the bath, taking in my naked form.

My helm sat at his feet; he'd most likely picked it up out of curiosity on his way in, and be shocked into dropping it.

I meant to scream. Really, I did. But my voice had died in my throat.

We seemed to spend an eternity, standing there, and while I had become a lifeless statue, my eyes frozen and unseeing, his gaze had lost its ever-loving mind and starting feasting. When they started trailing lower and lower, I had the good sense to plummet into the water, shrieking, my eyes welded shut.

After a while, I didn't hear anything, so I assumed he had gone. When I peeked out, however, he still stood by the bath, seemingly in shock. He cleared his throat.

"I saw everything," he said. "and I'm not sorry."

And the bastard left me there. Just like that.

I cried myself to sleep.

\

"How long have you been posing as a man?"

"I had my face changed about two days before I arrived here," I managed. Talking about old news was easier. "So, I suppose about two months."

He nodded, and continued to his next question.

"We accept female soldiers proudly, you know. Changing your face wasn't necessary."

_Oh, but it was._

"I am not only here to serve you. I am also in hiding," I confessed.

"Ah," he said. "You would treat our cause as a guise?"

"It's more complicated than that; you know it is!"

"Do I?"

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms, as if to say he'd proven his point.

"Look," I said. "I am a woman. That is the only difference between who you thought I was and who I am. I swear it."

He bore his gaze into me a few moments more. But I knew it was just for show, because then he said,

"I will not tell."

"Thank you," I said, relieved. Then I tensed up again. "Do you no longer trust me?"

"Of course not. Do I strike you as a fool?"

"No, my Jarl." I turned to leave, but something else nagged me. "Ulfric," I said, and he tensed visibly at my having dropped his honorific. "Why did you say what you said?"

"Because you aren't trustworthy!" he said tiredly, shuffling parchment on his desk impatiently.

"Not that," I said. "Last night. You said, 'I won't lie, I saw everything'. Why did you say that?"

Ulfric sighed.

And when he looked up, there was something in his eyes that wasn't kingly, or noble, or gentlemanly or even courteous.

It was hunger.

I shuddered under its weight.

"Why, you ask?" There was a smile on his voice. "Because it's the truth, plain and simple." My heart in beating in the back of my throat. "I saw everything. Made sure to see everything, in fact. And I won't apologize for that."

I turned to flee as fast as humanly possible, but I still couldn't outrun those words.

At least as a Death Prince I wouldn't have had to worry about the troubles of an ordinary woman.


	16. Chapter 16: Black Sacraments

**Hullo, everyone! Thanks for the messages and comments and things! Much appreciated. I know that last chapter was short, so I wrote this to make up for it. Hope you enjoy! -LR**

It was on my way out when I first heard tell of Aventus Aretino.

Some of the other soldiers were speaking of it while I changed into my civilian clothes (or civvies, as we called them) since I was off-duty. I opted for black trousers, tall black leather boots, a black, hooded, long-sleeved jerkin and a navy blue belted tunic over that.

Dressing was no small thing for me.

It always rubbed me raw, because no matter what I portrayed myself as, when I became Na'el, it was always Rontu's body I was covering up. The only thing worse than binding my breasts in the day was unbinding them in the bath at night, which hurt like hell.

I was in the middle of changing the wrappings in our Squad barracks, hurrying to catch up with the others, when I overheard some other Squad talking.

"That orphan boy, Aventus," one grunted. "He means to do the Black Sacrament."

I stopped my actions and focused my attention.

"Why on earth would he want the Dark Brotherhood for?" another man asked, incredulous. "What ties does that boy have to the Assassins?"

_The Assassins. . ?_

"_Adjin._ . ." I whispered. I clipped the bindings into place, and hurriedly slipped into the jerkin and tunic, hungrily listening for more.

"They say the Guild's under new management," the first voice said. "The old leader, the woman, she's been. . .replaced by some other."

"D'you think they'll come for the boy?"

"They've never been known to deny a contract. People say he wants the owner of that Riften orphanage dead. Grelod the Kind, she's called," he snorted, "Though from what I hear, she en't so kind."

I shuddered.

"If that's the case, then maybe she deserves-"

Having heard enough, I opened the door, giving them a jolt.

"Na'el!" The first man smiled cordially. "You running late? Us, too. We can head to Candlehearth together, then."

"Sure," I said, and drew up my hood.

The snow was soft and white as it fell on Windhelm, and as gray and forlorn as it usually seemed, there was a wreath of light, an ethereal beauty to the city.

We came into the Hall to find a crowd of soldiers all surrounding some action.

"Gambling, most like," one of my companions grunted,

Nord men seemed to grunt a lot.

As we approached, the soldiers parted like meat before a cutting knife, to reveal Paia.

My jaw dropped and eyes bugged, and I was shell-shocked still as she launched herself into my arms.

"_Na'el_!" she wept daintily, "Oh, gods above, Na'el! I'm so sorry, but I just had to see you! Rontu and I have missed you so, brother!"

Hey, I was just relieved her lie had not gone overboard.

"Paia," I said, and wrapped my arms around her. "I've missed you, too."

"Your friends have taken good care of me," she said, smiling at my Squad. I noticed her act falter, however, when she eyed Bjorn distastefully. "But, I couldn't sit still without having seen you."

"I'm glad to find you well," I said, and swallowed before adding, "How is Rontu?"

"She's been better," Paia said meaningfully, and glanced around. "But, I'd much rather talk without the audience. . ."

"Alright, boys, show's over," I said in as deep a voice as I could manage. "Go on, get your mead." My eyes fell on Bjorn, whose eyes had fallen on Paia, whose eyes had fallen to the floor. "Bjorn," I called.

"Aye."

His eyes never left Paia.

"I'd like some time with my sister, if you please."

He was giving her this look that said _So would I_.

I could barely stifle my laughter.

If shadows and kings and dragons could fall in love with death, then I saw no reason why a bear shouldn't fall in love with a lamb.

Bjorn gave her a long look, and me a small nod before heading towards the bar.

"Come," I said, and directed Paia to a far off table for two. "What is it? Is it Mercer? Brynjolf?"

"In truth, it's something of both," she said, picking at some smoked perch. "We've picked up Mercer's trail, thanks to you, and Brynjolf's getting better everyday. He, Karliah and Jarsha are the new Guild leaders, so he's forcing himself to be unselfish, but. . .he still misses you."

"Do you need me to return for Mercer?"

"Not at this moment. It's still a matter of figuring out exactly where he is." She cast a look around the room. "Are you very busy, reinventing yourself?"

"You make it sound like I've had a choice," I grinned. "It was hard at first. But I've made a few friends along the way."

"I should say so," she frowned. "Who was the mammoth with the black hair?"

"That'd be Bjorn," I laughed. "He's a bit coarse, but he's honest and a good friend, a good man." I leaned back in my chair, pulled out my pipe and lit up, a smiling still clinging to my lips. "Seems he's taken a liking to you."

"Don't be ridiculous," she snapped. "Me with a Nord?"

"And you'd accuse them of being racist?" Paia's protest died in her throat. "It's your choice whether you mean to give him a chance or not. But don't write him off because of something trivial like that."

"I'll be sure to remember that when I've the time for men." She gave the room another glance, and then looked back to me, studying my posture, my pipe and my easiness. "You look well. At home."

"I'm happy here, crazy as it sounds. I've told Jarl Ulfric of my intentions. He hasn't said 'no' to helping Hegathe after this war."

"Rontu, that's great!" she exclaimed. "I'll let Jarsha know upon my return. It's good to know I haven't come at a bad time."

"You couldn't have come at a better one, actually," I said, and leaned forward, motioning for her to do the same. "I've had a lead on Adjin."

She gasped.

"_Are you serious_?"

"Dead serious," I smiled. "The only thing is, it'll take me back to Riften."

"What's the lead?"

"What, indeed," I muttered. "I'm going to steal a contract from the Dark Brotherhood."

Her face went ashen and she stared at me in disbelief.

"What happens when they catch up with you?" she hissed. "What happens when they kill you?"

"They won't. At least, I _think_ they won't," I shrugged, taking a drag from my pipe. "I've heard the leader of the Brotherhood has been replaced-"

"No-"

"-By a man."

"Rontu, _no_!" Paia fumed. "That tells us nothing; you don't know if it's Adjin!"

"This piece of the puzzle has fallen into my lap, I can't just let it go! It's all I have!"

We stared across the table for a long while, neither of us blinking.

"Fine," she said finally. "I give. You'd think you'd be more wary these days. Have you heard about the return of the dragons?"

I almost choked on my high, laughing, bursts of smoke curling out of my mouth, and tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.

"Paia," I said, with a weary smile. "You've no idea."

\

We came upon the Aretino house late at night, as we hadn't wanted anyone to know what we were up to. Since the rumors had spread, no one was willing to go near the manor, claiming it as cursed.

It took but a flick of the wrist to pick the lock.

There was no furniture in the Aretino house. The entryway was bare, but for the random bottle or book. The next room was similarly sparse in terms of furnishings. It did not, however, lack for blood.

Paia and I entered noiselessly on the Aretino boy, stabbing into something on the floor. He was surrounded by candles, he and a skeleton, a large heart and a few other items I could not make out.

I was horrified.

The boy kept repeating the Black Sacrament in desperation.

"_Sweet mother, sweet mother, send your child unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear_."

He was speaking to the Night Mother, I knew. She would hear his plea, and send one of her children to take care of his contract.

Not with me around.

"Hey," I called. "Boy. You can stop now."

He whirled around on his knees in awe. The smile on his face chilled me to the bones.

"_You came_!" he shouted, scrambling to his feet. "It worked! Now you can kill Grelod!"

"Slow down, boy," Paia said gently. "Who is this Grelod?"

"Grelod the Kind," I answered over my shoulder. "The headmistress of Honorhall Orphanage."

"She's a monster," Aventus said, and a dark look crossed his face. It brightened again at the prospect of being rid of her. "I did the Black Sacrament, over and over. With the body, and the…" he swallowed, glancing back at the carnage. ". . . the things. And then you came! Assassins from the Dark Brotherhood!"

Paia opened her mouth to correct him, but I stopped her. Everyone didn't need to know our business.

"So you'll kill Grelod?"

He still could scarce believe it, I offered him a small, grim smile.

"Sure thing, boy. We'll see it done."

\

"What a thing to do, Na'el Death-Prince; hiding that sister o' yours."

I looked at Bjorn, amused at his antics.

"You're drunk, Bjorn."

"Mebbe so. But I weren't when I seen her. Paia. . ." his voice trailed off, as he grinned a ridiculous grin. Kieran and Nolan were dying of laughter.

"She don't want you, man, if anything, you scare her."

"Oh, shut up, Ralof, what d'you know of it?" Bjorn asked acidly. He turned to me. "I wouldn't hurt her, Na'el, you know me. Put in a word, brother."

"If she'll have you, you have my blessing," I grinned.

Bjorn drew me into a crushing embrace, thumping me on the back with his fist.

"Y'hear that, lads?" he boomed. "Best be expecting a wedding soon. And little brown, Nord lads come spring!"

My brothers fell out laughing, and I clapped Bjorn on the shoulder as I passed.

I had to speak to Ulfric still.

"Enter," he said simply, when I knocked on his door. He glanced up, and a small smile played across his lips as he saw me, and looked back down.

"My lady Na'el."

"Please, don't, Jarl Ulfric, please."

"Only a jape," he laughed shortly, rising from his seat. "I hear your sister's been to see you. A good visit, I hope?"

"Good, short, and unfinished," I said. "I am afraid a family issue has sprung up. I need a leave of absence."

He did that thing again, where he narrows his eyes and studies you.

"Very well," he said finally. "I release you."

My jaw dropped.

"Just like that?"

"I've said before that you've piqued my interest."

"No, you haven't," I said accusingly.

"No? Must've been speaking to Galmar." My blood went cold. "Don't fret, he knows nothing about your secret. But, if it wasn't clear before, Na'el, you've piqued my interest."

"Yeah, I caught that part," I said drily. "How?"

"Since I first saw you, I had my suspicions about you. In truth, you keep my life interesting. Suddenly, everything I know's been uprooted. Oh, yes," he said mockingly, "Dark days, dark days. Salute my men. Send them to battle. Bring them back. Repeat. That was my life," he smiled. "But not anymore. Now, there's a story to be seen here. A mysterious woman, posing as a mysterious man. Giving you your whims, like keeping your secret and letting you have your leave of absence keeps it interesting."

I kept my face a mask, but on the inside, I was in turmoil. _Leave me alone_, I thought, in anguish. _You just leave me alone and you'll be fine. Don't be the king, I begged. Don't be the king. ._ .

"I will return in about a month," I said. "Send to Riften, if I am needed."

"Where, in Riften?" he asked my retreating form. "How will I find your people?"

"Send to Riften, Jarl Ulfric, and my people will find you."


	17. Chapter 17: Only Forward

**Hullo, everybody! Another chapter before New Year's, as promised. Winter Break offers plenty of chances to write so hey, take it when you can get it, am I right? Please forgive my songwriting, just as a side note. :-P Thanks for reading and reviewing, and I hope you enjoy! -LR**

"_The soldiers, they came at the grey Thalmor's will/ They take and they torture, unjustly they kill_," Paia lilted.

I swiveled in my saddle, looking at her in bewilderment.

"Who taught you that song?"

"What, the 'Claws of the Bear'? Your Nord brethren. Who else?" She smiled coyly and continued. "_But the Bear with his Stormcloak did rear up his head/ And his mighty roar sounded and filled them with dread._"

I shook my head, but joined in all the same.

_"He swiped with his claws and the damage was done._

_The names his men took in the sack of Whiterun!_

_The Bear, Prince of Death and the Fleet Foot are three_

_The Reaper and Heart-eater also gave grief_

_The Bear was ferocious and bore down on men!_

_Just as his namesake, he broke ranks and then,_

_He pillaged and stood fast as tall as a tree,_

_And before him scores of Imperials did flee._

_The Fleet-Foot is called so because he slaid fast._

_Cutting down foes, he was true to the last!_

_He came upon Dragonsreach and cleared the way._

_"I am the front line," he was rumored to say._

_The Heart-Eater is the most gruesome of these;_

_He tore into flesh and was bathed in his deeds._

_Upon tasting flesh he went wild they claimed,_

_And went hacking and slashing, no way to be tamed!_

_The Reaper lost blade as the battle gained speed,_

_He never lost heart though, he'd see Whiterun freed!_

_Backed into a corner, he yelled for a blade,_

_When thrown a sickle, he then reaped the knaves!_

_Then came the Prince of Death, swarthy and lithe._

_A foreigner, aye, but a true Nord inside._

_He made night his ally and wiped out the guard,_

_Paving the way for the Stormcloak's great charge!"_

"Was that really you? Swarthy and lithe, indeed!" She laughed, as we finished. "The Death-Prince, is that what they call you, Segen? How dramatic."

"You know me," I grinned. "Always the player."

We had been riding for less than half a day, making our way back to Riften after saying goodbye to my Squad in the late morning.

"I saw you accept Bjorn's token," I smiled slyly.

"Well. . .it's a rather nice bear pelt. Warm, too," she said, softly, and I could hear the sound of her wrapping it more securely around herself. "And this country is so cold."

"I bet he'd keep you warm," I snorted.

"Rontu!" she yelped over my laughter, and would've maybe thrown something at me, if anything was nearby. "Those Nords have made you coarse."

"Those Nords have made me enjoy life," I smiled, turning my face upward. "Just look at that sky, Paia. Really look at it. Nobody ever does that, even though it's so beautiful."

"I was trying to put my finger on their issue," Paia laughed shortly. "So, that's it. Their heads are in the clouds."

"What's the use of it being on the ground? You'll never see anything amazing that way."

"Damned Nords," Paia muttered. But when I turned around to make a retort, her face was tilted up toward the sky, the sun kissing it.

I shook my head and grinned.

Bjorn would be good for her.

"So," she spoke again. "A shadow. That's Brynjolf. A king. That's this Ulfric Stormcloak. A dragon. You think that's this dragonborn?"

"Just so."

"Hm." She put her heels to her horse and trotted up alongside me. "And the Book of Fate said you'd love them all?"

"Just so."

"You loved Brynjolf," she said. "Do you love Ulfric?"

I thought on it long and hard.

"I respect him," I said finally. "But, I don't think I love him."

"Did you love Brynjolf at first?"

"No," I admitted. "But I did resp- ah, shit."

"Hm," Paia said again. "Interesting."

"Don't overthink it, Ninneh."

"Too late," she lilted. "_The soldiers, they came at the grey Thalmor's will/ They take and they torture, unjustly they kill_."

\

Riften was just as I had left it, misty gray and mysterious, cloaked in pretty fallen leaves and perched on its lake. Paia and her dappled mare, Ola, went down the path through the woods first, and booked two stable stalls. The Guild had eyes everywhere, and I didn't want there to be any knowledge of Paia returning with another person on a horse that looked like Rontu's.

As soon as she whistled her signal, I came up the path and dismounted immediately, handed the reigns to Paia and entered the city. I took a backstreet to avoid meeting Maul. I slipped past Black-Briar Manor, the Bee and Barb and all the other canals and shops I had come to know.

I made my way past the cemetery where I knew Brynjolf to be, so close and yet so far.

_You can't go back; only forward._

My mother used to say this to me, when I graduated from her classes with the youngest students to those with the next age group. I didn't want to go because it was taught by one of my father's brothers, and all my father's brothers despised me.

_No_, I'd beg Mana, _Please, no._

_You can't go back_, she'd say. _Only forward._

I kept walking, head high, to Honorhall Orphanage.

The door was locked, so I picked it and I slipped inside.

In the corner of the entryway, there was a closet. I could see cuffs bolted to the wall around the height of child when he's kneeling. I could hear raised voices of an old woman.

"Those who shirk their duties will get an extra beating. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes Grelod."

"And one more thing!" she snapped. "I will hear no more talk of adoptions! None of you riff-raff is getting adopted. Ever! Nobody needs you, nobody wants you. That, my darlings, is why you're here. Why you will always be here, until the day you come of age and get thrown into that wide, horrible world." I heard the smile ease into her voice. "Now, what do you all say?"

"_We love you, Grelod," _they recited. "_Thank you for your kindness._"

"That's better. Now scurry off, my little guttersnipes."

I slipped into the room on the left, which I took to be Grelod's, and searched for something of hers that I could use to kill her. On the dresser lay an iron dagger.

_This'll do._

I'm usually a calm person, you have to believe me. I don't lose my temper very often. But at that point, I was so infuriated, I couldn't see straight. I sidled up behind the old woman, and right before her young assistant, right before her young charges, I drove the iron dagger into her neck up to the hilt.

Amid the children's cheers and the other woman's screams, I whispered to Grelod the Kind softly and sweetly, "_Aventus Aretino sends his regards_."

She was still choking on her own blood at that point, but I knew she heard me, because she needed to. The last thing that evil woman needed to hear on earth, was that her death had come by the hands of the one who got away.

"_Monster_!" her assistant screamed, "_You monster_!"

I smiled, unfazed at the dancing and cheering children.

There were four of them; three boys and a girl. There were four of them, and now, they were all free.

There was nothing left for me to do. So I left.

I had just exited the Orphanage and crossed behind Mistveil Keep when I ran into Brynjolf.

I almost hid, not remembering the fact that I had changed my face.

Paia was right, he did look well. The Guild was doing better, she had said, without the plague that was Mercer Frey. New recruits arrived everyday, and the Ragged Flagon became less and less shabby. The Vault was filling up again, as well.

In my opinion, it had been worth the cost, the cost being me.

We both had to get our heads on straight.

Presently, he was leaning against the gate of Maven's house, speaking to her while holding some papers. His hair was longer; it suited him. Just as being Guildmaster did. I kept walking.

Maven, who had funded my surgery and been there to see the results, gave me an imperceptible nod, which I returned.

I kept waiting for the moment where Brynjolf would grab my arm and turn me around.

For the moment when he'd ask where I'd been and why.

For the moment when he'd decry my ever doubting him.

It never came.

I kept walking still, now with the ridiculous impulse to cry. I didn't know what for.

After all, you can't go back. Only forward.

""Na'el Death-Prince?"

I looked up at the asker. "Yes?"

A courier, I judged, based on his messenger bag. But there was something off-putting about him. Don't get me wrong, he looked every bit the rugged, commonplace courier boy, what with the short-cropped dark hair and the worn-in clothes. But his eyes were something else. They held a mischievous gleam he couldn't hide even if he wanted to.

Even then, I knew I was in trouble.

"Got something for you here," he smiled, and handed me a letter. "Well, that's it. Got to go."

And he was gone.

I stared after him a few moments longer, pondering, before I made my way to the stables. where Paia awaited me.

"Finish the job?"

"Done and done," I confirmed, mounting up. "Was Jarsha not to meet us?"

"Well," she said, as we started off. "It's a secret from the others, but he's a Nightingale now. They can go where they please, so as soon as the ceremony was over, he left."

"I'm proud of him," I said. "But doesn't that mean he's promised his soul to serve Nocturnal in the afterlife?"

"Just so," Paia laughed. "And he said he'd never be a woman's bitch." At that, I started laughing, too. Nocturnal was the goddess of thieves. From every pocket picking to every grand heist, its success depended on how much in her favor one was. When one became a Nightingale, they pledged their service to her after death in a ceremony at the Twilight Sepulchre. It was all very secretive, even from the Guild.

In Barak-dur, however, we were taught that no secrets ought to exist in families, which is why he told Paia, and Paia told me.

"What's that letter?" she asked, snagging the parchment from me as we rounded the bend, putting Riften out of sight.

"Hm? Oh. Some courier gave it to me. I don't know what it is; you can open it if you wish."

"I do wish," she announced grandly, "_Then came the Prince of Death, swarthy and lithe/_

_A foreigner, aye, but a true Nord i_. . ." she trailed off.

"What?" I laughed, "You've forgotten the verse already?"

"Rontu. . ." I turned to see her grave-faced, handing me the letter. "_Look_."

I unfolded the paper to reveal the black print of a hand. Beneath it were two words that said all.

**_We Know_**


	18. Chapter 18: Nightmares

**Hullo, everybody! Sorry for the wait, I know I usually don't take this long. But, this chapter proved harder to write thanks to its big ass PLOT TWIST. Thank you all for your support, and I hope you enjoy! -LR**

"Good," Ulfric said, as I ambled into the room. "You're here. Let's begin."

I nearly recoiled at Ulfric's brusque welcome. I had grown so accustomed to our friendly talks, I suppose I forgot that he was my King before my confidant. But after being gone for over the expected month, I had expected at least a little warmth. Not only that, but searching for Adjin had proved fruitless. No one knew anything about the Dark Brotherhood. I was almost tempted to do the Black Sacrament my own damned self. Almost.

He gestured for me to gather around the table in the war room.

"My Jarl," I said, by way of apology, placing my fist over my heart.

Ulfric dismissed it with a wave of his hand, and continued.

"Never mind the formalities now," he said. "I need you and your Squad to liberate war prisoners being held in Fort Neugrad."

"Fort Neugrad," I repeated thoughtfully. "Is that where my brothers are now?"

"Aye," he nodded. "All but Bjorn. He wanted to wait. You'll both meet up with them at the Falkreath Stormcloak Camp. From there, Galmar will instruct you."

"I understand."

We stood there, and slowly, the take-orders feeling dissipated, leaving only the awkwardness that came before our talks.

"I'm glad to find you well," I said. "And I apologize again, for my lateness. Jarl Ulfric, I did not intend to be so long away-"

"Well, maybe next time, I won't let you out so easily," he said gruffly. "You've a duty to your brothers. Don't forget that."

I cast my eyes down, and gave a short bow of my head, before turning to go.

"Even if your whims do keep my life interesting," he added.

I left the room grinning.

\

"So, yer won't be staying, is it?" Bjorn asked hesitantly. "With Na'el, I mean?"

Paia tightened the bear pelt around her shoulders as they stood on the porch of Candlehearth Hall.

"No. We've two older brothers. I mean to visit with one."

"There are more of you?"

"Plenty."

"_Ye gods_," he breathed. "How long will you visit with him?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "Maybe a few months or so."

"Ye gods," Bjorn said again. "You won't be staying with the other brother after this one, will you?"

That earned him a laugh. A full-blown, head-back, unrestricted Paia laugh.

"No, Bjorn the Bear, Stone-Cleaver," she smiled, using both his title and surname. "I will fly back soon after my visit."

He took her hand.

"Will you?"

_Well, that won't get him anywhere._

"To see Na'el, of course," she says decidedly.

Bjorn visibly deflated, and let go of her hand, turning his back to her broodingly..

"You tease me, woman."

Paia watched him smilingly, eyes lit. _She likes this man_, I thought to myself, _She likes him_. Paia crossed over to where he stood, truly making the picture of his giant form and her small one. She could not reach the back of his neck with her lips. But she kissed her fingers, and brushed them there, counting coup but not like she was used to.

She was, in her own way, acknowledging Bjorn's feelings.

That was more than any of us could have hoped for.

"For you, too," she said quietly.

But I knew that if I had heard her, then so had Bjorn.

He turned to watch her walk towards me, where I stood a few paces away from the Hall, lighting my pipe.

"You're leaving," I said. It was a statement, a confirmation of a fact.

"You know I can't stay."

"And you know that I'm still sort of lonely."

"Of course, you are," she smiled. "These Nords may be your people. But they're not your people."

We both laughed.

"Will I see you soon?"

"As soon as there's a lead on Mercer, I will be here," she swore.

"Maybe even sooner?"

I nodded in Bjorn's direction, and she didn't have the heart to turn around.

"Who knows." She bristled under the feeling of Bjorn's gaze, and changed the subject in a low whisper. "What about the Dark Brotherhood?"

"I have decided to wait them out. We tried to find them. It didn't work. Now, it's best I wait for them to find me."

"_Us_," she corrected.

"No, Paia," I said, exhaling the smoke through my nose, and smiling. "No. I provoked them. Only me. Whatever fulfilling that contract means, it will be only me they confront."

"You cannot protect me forever, Rontu, I'm a woman grown!"

"Yes, a _young_ woman grown," I laughed. "And wouldn't you like to be that a little longer before death?"

As far as I was concerned, this conversation was over, and Paia knew as much. It was only getting darker, and yet, she held my gaze defiantly, refusing to let this go and make the ride back to Riften.

"And what about you?" She was being childish now. "Wouldn't you like to be?"

"I'm not a woman grown. Remember?" I gave a cold smile. "I'm a Death Prince."

Her face seemed to crumple, then, like a parchment in an angry fist.

I didn't want us to part this way, or at all really. But if we had to, it wouldn't be like this.

"Let me make the world safe for us again," I pleaded. "Let me have time for redemption."

"There's nothing to redeem," she retorted.

"There's everything to redeem," I said. "My brothers, for deserting. Myself for not acting when I could have to save Hegathe."

"What can I do to make you see none of this was your fault?" she asked in a whisper, brown eyes hard as they studied me. "What can I do, Segen?"

"You can let me make this right."

Paia relented, and drew me into her arms.

"Whatever happens, Rontu, I don't care about the Guild, or the Dark Brotherhood, or this civil war, or even a fucking dragon," she hissed into my ear. "You better come out on the other side. And you better come out as Rontu. I don't mind scars, or burns or wounds like that. But, you better come out with your own soul. Not some stranger's."

I didn't know what to say.

So, I resorted to old teachings.

"_Body. Heart. Soul_."

Paia stiffened in my arms, then tightened her grip on me, and I knew I had said the right thing.

"_Kenna. Tonna. Danna_," she whispered back.

She left with the last light of day.

\

"Good to see you again, boy!" Galmar boomed, clapping me on the back. "And it's about damn time, too."

"Been waiting on you, brother," Ralof said, grinning, as he drew me into an embrace. "We've missed your face."

"Well met, Commanders," I smiled, as I undraped my long, travel cloak. "What would you have me do?"

"You will infiltrate and free the prisoners of the Fort," Ralof informed me, as we came up to a table with a layout of the structure. "We've discovered a secret entrance in the depths of the lake by the Fort. It'll take you right to the dungeons. You'll have to work your way up through the Fort, and we will meet you in the courtyard to do battle."

"I will not be seen," I promised. "And our brothers will go home."

Ralof clapped me on the shoulder.

"Your tent is this way," he said, as he began walking. "Have you seen the others yet?"

"Only Bjorn," I laughed. "It really is good to see you, Ralof."

"Likewise. He seems real keen on that sister of yours, doesn't he?"

"With good reason," I said defensively.

Ralof broke into laughter as we came upon a tent.

"Here it is," he announced with a flourish. "You'll be staying with Kieran."

"_What_!"

"Sorry. I know, he snores, but you weren't here to speak for yourself. . ."

"Ah, gods," I seethed. "Well. Maybe I won't have to experience that. Maybe, I'll meet my death in the Fort."

"You're the Prince of Death, Na'el," Ralof grinned. "Give yourself a little credit."

\

The brown haired soldier -the one who looked like he could swing an axe with ease- flung himself against the bars as I let the final guards' body drop to the ground.

"What's this!" he hissed. "What's this!"

"I'm a brother," I reassured him, picking up the guard's keys. "A Stormcloak." I whistled loud and sharp, and the other soldiers I'd freed flooded the room. "And you're all getting sprung."

I yanked open the door, stepped into the light, and they gave a collective gasp.

"By the love of Talos," the brown-haired brother whispered. "You're him. _The Death-Prince_."

"The one who wears a cloak of shadows!"

"The one what Sheogorath himself calls 'son'."

"Who's cheated death only a thousand times, and calls himself its master?"

"One and the same," I said. "But you can call me Na'el. There are weapons in the trunk in the other room. Travel in groups of four; one person to carry a wounded brother, and the other two to defend them."

"Where you lead, we follow."

I nodded once, and we made our way through the near-empty Fort, the last of our obstacles being the courtyard. We came to the door that would lead us out, and I surveyed the small army I had freed from imprisonment, and they surveyed me right back.

From our side of the doors, we could hear the clash of steel, and I knew that Ralof had made it to the courtyard. It was time to get my brothers back home.

"_Kin_!" I bellowed, "_And Country_!"

"_Kin and Country_!" they thundered back.

I threw the doors open and we flung ourselves into the fray.

\

"_Brothers_!" Galmar called. "Stormcloaks! True Nords of Skyrim!"

We drifted closer to the sound of his voice, lowering our own tumult, drinks in our hands and stories on our lips.

"This is just the first of many liberations. The bonds that hold our brethren will break, and do you know why? Because our bonds of blood are much stronger, much_ greater_ than they could ever dream." A hush fell over the troops as we fell under Galmar's spell. "The flimsy shackles will be broken," he boomed. "Sungard! Snowhawk! Dunstad! Greenwall! IT DOESN'T END HERE."

"_AYE_!"

"We will run them out of our homes! Out of our fields, our mountains, our Skyrim._ WE WILL BE VICTORIOUS_!"

The roar the resounded around me made me homesick.

I recalled the war fever that took Hegathe, the promises of vengeance and glory. The difference, however, was that in Hegathe, I was skeptical. But now, I was sure.

We would take on the Aldmeri Dominion.

And this time, we would win.

\

I dreamed I murdered Ulfric.

The night that Paia left to Riften, I tossed and turned in bed like never before. Sleep was an angry sea and I was drowning in nightmares of killing Ulfric.

We were back in the bath house, only he stood in the water where I had been, and I stood on the side where he had been. The water didn't stir; it was like glass, and when I looked into it, Rontu's face- my old face- was reflected back at me. Not just my face, but in the dream, Ulfric also knew my name- my real one- and he kept saying it and saying it and saying it.

"Rontu," he whispered, "don't desert me."

"Rontu," he said, "don't desert me."

"Rontu," he called, "Don't Desert Me!"

"_RONTU_," he yelled, "_DON'T DESERT ME_!"

A pair of arms surged up from the water where I was, and dragged me under. Suddenly, the bath was an ocean, and as hard as I fought to get up for air, I couldn't. When I looked down to see what was pulling on me, it was Na'el.

It was his face. My face? I didn't know anymore.

As Na'el swam there, under me, pulling me, the colors of his face began washing away like paint and I realized that it wasn't a face, it was a mask. Under it dark, dark eyes, alit with cunning and mischief, leered up at me, and they were not mine.

I didn't know them, but I did recognize them.

The paint kept washing off brown and red and soon, I could see the true face beneath it.

The dragon skull from my tea dregs.

I wanted to scream, but I was paralyzed in shock and fear. The. . .thing pulling on me crawled up my body, grabbing on my shoulders to keep us face-to-face since he was taller than me. He leaned in close, like he wanted a kiss, but instead, he whispered to me.

"_Body. Heart. Soul._"

He tightened his grip on my shoulders, and I knew that he'd happily drown me if I didn't stick him first. So I stuck him.

Instead of blood, a torrent of flame spouted out from his wound, and ejected us upward out of the ocean. When it was all over, and the rush of the water and fire had passed, I opened my eyes and suck in air.

It was Ulfric in my arms, my dirk up to the hilt in his stomach.

"_You deserted me_," he accused in a soft whisper.

I woke up with a jolt, unsheathing my dirk.

"Easy, brother," Kieran grunted from the other end of our tent. "It were only a dream."

I looked dazedly around at the tent I was in, and the encampment outside it before reclining back on my elbows and letting out a harsh sigh.

"More like a nightmare."

"It's just the war, getting to you," he decided, as he continued sharpening his blade. "They pass." He put down the sword and stood, dusting off his trousers before his gaze fell on a plate of roasted. . . something. "Have you eaten?"

"Aye."

"Liar," he snorted, and tossed me what seemed like roast rabbit haunches. "Right off the spit," he encouraged, and wrapped his cloak around himself more tightly before sitting back down.

I was hesitant. After a childhood of my own blood trying to kill me, you must understand, I don't trust many people's cooking. But Kieran and the rest were my brothers, and so, I took a bite.

It was good.

"Bjorn and me told Wendell you like it well done," he grimaced, and I laughed.

"Well, I apologize if I don't meet your eating standards."

"No, you don't," he said gruffly. "We Nords like our steak still kicking!" We both fell out laughing and he gave me a small smile before changing the subject. "Did you want to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?"

"Your nightmare." I froze. "Don't feel pressured, it's fine if you don't, I just-"

"You're just being a good brother," I finished. "I understand, and thank you."

He nodded, but gave me a tentative glance.

". . .So, do you want to talk about it?"

I paused.

"Sure," I said decidedly. I didn't have to tell him everything. But I still wanted him to know how much his concern meant. "I had a dream," I started, "about Rontu."

"Your woman?"

"My-" I allowed,, with a wry smile. "Aye. My woman."

"Well, what happened?"

"I. . ." How to put this? "I. . .hurt her."

Kieran's gaze never left me, and he nodded.

"You beat on her?"

"No!" I sputtered. "_Never_! I would never beat her."

"So, what then?"

"Well, I. . .it seems ridiculous after saying I'd never hit her."

"Try me."

"I. . .I stabbed her," I said in a small voice. I brought my gaze down to the floor. "In the stomach."

Kieran was quiet, and I shuffled deeper into my bed roll.

"Did she say anything?"

"Just. . ._Don't desert me_," I said, lifting my eyes to meet his. "And when I. . .hurt her. . .she said that I did desert her."

"I see." Kieran sighed and rose up again. "Well, it's just a dream, Na'el. Nothing too bad."

"I guess you're right."

"Of course I am," he declared. "If anything-"

A deafening roar cut him off and filled our ears, and we shared a look for only a moment, our blood running cold. I grabbed my dirk, neglected my boots and we went crashing out of the tent, he in full mail, and me in only my untucked long shirt and trousers, crashing out of the tent, and into hell.

Because, that's what it was.

Fire.

Heat like you've never felt, roaring alive and burning all around us. Everywhere you looked, just burning; orange flame, yellow flame, white flame. Never had I seen something so evil cast so much light.

There was no place to hide.

The dragon himself sat amidst his inferno like a nesting bird. He was opposite me, on the other end of our camp, and by his flames, I dumbly witnessed him in all his glory. The dragon's scales were like emeralds, glinting hard under the full moons as he swung his body in agitation, slamming against ancient trees that snapped like twigs under his great weight. His claws were like pikes set before a castle's walls, his teeth were as white and terrible as the light of his flames. He snapped his jaws and the earth trembled. He flapped his wings and nature bowed down. He was truly the epitome of terror, the embodiment of fear.

So, why was I still standing there?

I looked about, finally tuning into the the screams and sounds of death and anguish around me. Once I spotted Kieran, standing in a stupor as I had been, I ran up and threw all my weight into forcing him to the ground.

"_KIERAN_!" I shouted into his face, and his bewildered gaze connected with mine. "Kieran, we can't remain here. The camp is lost. We have to get the others out."

He wet his lips and his eyes shifted back to the dragon.

"Don't look at the dragon, look at me!" I ordered, and he did. "You are going to find Bjorn. You are going to find Nolan," I instructed. "And the three of you will lead all the others to the mountain pass just down the hill, where you will wait for me. Do you understand?" Kieran nodded and swallowed hard. "I will find Commanders Ralof and Galmar."

Kieran nodded again, and I let him up.

Then, I turned to face the the dragon.

He wouldn't just let us go, not at all. If I had woken from a ten thousand year slumber, I knew I'd want to eat, and nothing would stop me, because nothing could.

If we ran, he would give chase.

I broke out of my perusal and went in search of Ralof and Galmar. As expected, they had rallied a firing squad against the beast, even though they had to know it was all in vain.

"You have to know that an attack is all in vain!" I hollered as I came near.

"Na'el! Thank the Divines, Na'el! _FIRE_!" Ralof boomed, and he watched the torrent of arrows fly before turning back to me. "You had me worried."

"Forget that, I'm fine. But if they keep standing here, agitating this dragon, then we won't be!"

"What do you propose we do, then?" called Galmar.

And he wasn't being sarcastic or sardonic; he was being serious. He wanted my opinion.

"If we stand and fight, we'll only die," I reasoned over the dragon's roar. "We have to leave, and now. I've sent Kieran, Bjorn and Nolan to lead the men to the mountain pass, where the dragon can't follow. You regroup with them, taking only the wounded and the war plans, only. Everything else isn't essential, and we leave it. We'll salvage the remains when the beast is gone."

I expected an argument,but Galmar's answer was immediate.

"You heard the man!" he bellowed. "RETREAT! RETREAT TO THE MOUNTAIN PASS!"

He ran off towards the path, calling out to the men, and Ralof and I followed suit, hollering and ordering and ushering our terrified brothers.

I was at the back of them, acting as the sheep dog to his herd. And, thank the gods I was.

"_Don't leave me!_" I heard it from an overturned tent that had been cast into the twisted underbrush. "_I'm here! I'm here!_"

I turned back immediately, and came upon one of the soldiers that had been wounded earlier in our Imperial ambush.

"Shit," I whispered, taking him in. It was Wendell, the cook. And he was tangled up pretty good. "_Shit_."

"Is that Na'el? Don't leave me!" he yowled, and began to thrash about.

"Shut up," I hissed, "Stop moving." I ducked down, and covered his body with my own, pressing him

into the soil. The dragon was starting to pass.

"Akatosh. Dibella. Talos," Wendell prayed.

I covered his mouth with my gloved hand.

"We'll be out of here soon," I whispered. "But it's not safe now. We have to wait."

I left him nod under my hand, and we listened to the footfalls of the dragon and the fading calls of our brothers.

The dragon didn't follow.

He didn't follow them at all.

_So, then why did he-?_

My thought was cut short by the steady sound of someone. . . clapping.

"You been tracking me for days," came a deep, sardonic voice, and I could hear the smile on it. "I tried to throw you off, but you just kept coming. And now, he's gotten away. Congratulations."

I slowly slipped the glass lenses out of my eyes, and stuffed them into the top of my chest bindings before raising my head cautiously to survey the scene.

A tall, lithe man stood alone before the dragon, the last of its embers smoldering around them, fading out slowly.

From what I could see of him, his clothes were of fine black cloth, and maybe hints of red? I couldn't see him that clearly, without raising my head all the way, and no sight was worth that.

The dragon snorted, black smoke billowing out of its nose, and slipping out from between his teeth.

The man drew two blades, and twirled them in his hands, widening the stance of his feet.

They waited a few more moments, before plunging into battle.

The man fought with a flurry of movement, focusing his attacks on the dragon's wings, and deftly avoiding its bursts of flame.

Watching him was like watching magic: I was on the edge of my seat. He moved like a dancer, like music and lyrics, he moved like a song. He was swift and terrible and captivating. He scaled the dragon with grace and skill, and grabbed onto one of its horns to steady himself before letting go and driving both his blades into its skull.

The beast bucked once, and fell instantly.

I let go of a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding, and what happened next sealed it all.

I saw the man become wreathed in a great white light.

I saw the scales of the dragon turn ethereal.

I saw the dragon stripped of all that light, and saw it transfer to the man.

I saw him absorb the dragon's soul.

My heart was pounding in the back of my throat, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. My eyes widened into saucers, and my breath expelled in short, quick bursts.

"_Dovahkiin_," Wendell whispered.

The man approached the dragon's skeleton and squatted by the skull.

"I did warn you," he said, plucking out his blades. "Damn. He was this close, the Redguard, and he got away, because of you."

The Dragonborn stood and sheathed his twin blades before turning towards me.

It was then that I made out the white hand print on the chest of his black armor.

"_The Dark Brotherhood_?" I breathed.

He cast a gaze all around the ravaged camp and finally turned, disappearing into the black.

\

"The mighty hero returns," Ulfric grinned as I stepped into his quarters. "Or should I say heroine?"

"Not if you wanted to make me less anxious," I sighed and sat down.

Ulfric merely laughed.

My thoughts during the march home were absorbed in the Dragonborn and his being a Dark Brother. It didn't add up. The last hope for all of Tamriel, and he was an Assassin who cared nothing for the troubles of others. Not only that, but he was searching for me. It was evident that regardless of my being ignorant the Assassins' whereabouts, they were nose-open for me. So, in truth I was more than antsy, especially since finding me could mean finding Paia.

That was something I could not condone.

"Anything to report?"

"Only things you've already heard."

I was picking at my nails when I said it, but I could see him glance at me with a smirk.

"And you don't want to sing of your own triumphs?" he asked. "Afraid to impress me?"

"Oh, plan your war, why don't you?"

He laughed. I smiled.

I have no idea when it became this warm between us, but it had.

"Honestly, after those first few days, I was beginning to wonder whether or not you deserted us," Ulfric said good-naturedly.

My blood ran cold.

"Please don't," I said softly.

Ulfric's humor dropped and he put down his quill, standing.

"I've offended you," he inferred, crossing to me.

"No, it's. . ." I sighed. "In Hegathe, in the war-time, my brothers were deserters. But I stayed. I would never-" I cut myself off fixed him with my gaze. "I'm not one to run from a war."

Ulfric absorbed this little piece of myself, as I wasn't prone to give out many, and he gave a nod.

"I won't assume it of you again," he said solemnly.

"Thank you."

"So, the bit about your having brothers, siblings besides your sister. . .that's true?"

"Yes," I confirmed. I did trust him. "The oldest, Farrid, then Sismit. Then me. Then Paia."

"Did you look like them?"

He asked it in a way that was very considerate of my face-changing, which I appreciated.

"I did. We looked very much alike."

"May I ask your surname?"

"You may not," I decreed.

"Tyrant." I laughed hard, my head tipped back. "You're not hard to look at, you know," he said somewhat hesitantly. "Even with your new face."

I reddened, scratched the back of my neck, and attempted to laugh that off.

"Careful, my Jarl," I said smilingly. "Sometimes you make me forget I'm trying to be a man."

"Alright, alright. I'll stop here, then."

He never did push me, Ulfric Stormcloak. That much can be said for him. He's a good man. So, I decided to tell him so.

"You're a good man," I said. "A good king."

"I wouldn't say good," Ulfric said with a tight smile. "Just fair."

"That's the only thing a good man can be."

He fixed me with those blue eyes, a question raging in them.

"You can't do that," he said. "You can't be that unfair, Na'el."

"My Jarl?"

"Don't tell me all the glowing things you have to say about me, before not allowing me to return the favor."

"I only meant-"

"I think you're noble," he cut in, "Brave. Kind."

"Ulfric, please, don't-"

"-Just. Resilient. Beautiful-"

"MY JARL." He glared at me, sitting hunched over in my usual seat, covering my ears, my brows turned upward as I stared back. "I don't ask for much. I don't," I whispered hoarsely. "This can't be that."

"Even if you want 'that', too."

"Even then."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not fit for it," I said. "I am not noble, or brave or kind. I. . .I. . ." Am a coward, a thief and a liar, I wanted to say. But I couldn't admit to that. At least, not yet. "I'm a monster. Truly I am."

"A monster." Ulfric gave a smile. "Yes, you're that alright. The worst kind. But you're out of luck, Na'el, because you are my kind of monster."

"You're not listening," I cried, "I'm no good for you!"

There are stains all over, stains all over. Damaged goods, I'm damaged goods.

"You are the only good for me. You say I'm a good king, do you not? Na'el," he said. "Be my queen."

His words crushed me, literally crushed me. I had no words to convey the feelings of guilt, sorrow, self-disgust and pain. He saw me as one woman when I was really another. Being Ulfric's queen would stain him as it stained me. My rap sheet was a long one; one that began on my back and ended on the backs of my hands. The Ebon Chain. The Thieves Guild. The Dark Brotherhood.

And still, I was not done.

If this had made me into a monster, what would it make him?

"I am not good," I repeated. "In fact, I am no good. I'm the worst kind of evil."

"Na'el-"

"You don't understand," I said. "I am not who you want me to be."

"I want you be my queen," he said, voice strained.

"And I'm happy just being your soldier," I replied softly. He visibly relented. "Don't ask it of me, again, please, don't," I begged. And I know I shouldn't have, but I added, "Because I might give in."

"Then give in!" he exclaimed. "I would never desert you-"

"I know!" I shouted, and he stopped. "Ulfric, I. . .I know." I wet my lips, trying to determine whether or not to tell all. "Believe it or not, I've been asked before."

"I would be surprised if a man hadn't asked to marry you."

"Not just to marry," I said, leaning up against his large desk. "I've been asked to be a queen." He froze in place, and seemed to drift into his seat, his eyes imploring me to continue. "In my country, I was asked to marry a prince. A prince of princes. My father had done some good for the king and took the prince in for some time. By the end, he claimed to be in love with me."

"Was he?"

I shrugged, "Who knows. We were very good friends. But that's what I was to all the boys I knew: a good friend. Truly another boy. I'm not fit to be a queen. It wasn't my style to be a queen." I cast a glance in his direction. "It still isn't."

"What happened?"

"He wanted to tame me," I laughed. "The way all people want to tame things that no one else can. He wanted me to wash the long hair I didn't have in honey and jazbay. He wanted me to brush rouge where warpaint ought to be. He wanted me adorned in silk instead of swords."

"Then, he didn't want you," Ulfric bristled. "Na'el, I do. I'm a man, and he was a beardless boy. I'm nothing like him."

I studied him awhile, a small smile playing across my lips.

"No," I said. "You are everything like him." Ulfric clenched his fists. "Oh, don't be angry. I only mean that you both see what you want to see. Not what I really am." I rose from my perch on his desk. "And it's for those reasons that I cannot be your queen."

Where Brynjolf would have kept asking about it all, Ulfric was Ulfric. He didn't push me.

I made to leave.

"I will find you out, Na'el," he called after me. "I will find you out and break down your walls."

"Just don't swear it," I tossed over my shoulder.

\

That night, I dreamed of the Dragonborn.

We were surrounded by a tunnel of flames, but they didn't scorch or burned. They caressed.

He stood opposite me, all the way at the other end of the tunnel and, unsatisfied with even that distance, I spun around to escape and widen the gap.

As soon as I turned, however, I found myself face-to-skull with the dragon's head once more.

He caught my forearms in a steely grip. I looked down to find that my body had turned ethereal and full of light, the way the dragon at the camp had. I meant to scream, but as in the last nightmare, I was paralyzed, and couldn't even do that.

The Dragonborn began pulling on my arms, drawing me in, his body fusing with my own.

We now shared a single body up to our waists, and he was pulling me still. The eye sockets of the dragon's skull now housed the dark, laughing human ones that I both knew and didn't recognize, and they drew closer and closer and closer.

"_Body. Heart. Soul_," he whispered before we became one.

\

I stirred softly in the space between asleep and awake, before I registered the fact that I wasn't in my own bed. My eyes shot open. Wasn't in the Palace of Kings. I shot up in the bed. Wasn't alone.

It seemed to be a shack of some sort, most likely abandoned. Further along in the room, three people knelt with black hoods over their heads, execution style. I swallowed.

"Well, well, well," I suddenly heard, and I shivered in response. The deep, lazily sarcastic voice that haunted my dreams. I would know it anywhere. "He's finally awake."

I slipped out of the bed, and prepared to face the Dragonborn.

Prepared to face my nightmare.


	19. Chapter 19: Bonded

**Hullo, everyone! I know this one's kinda short, but there's another one coming up right behind it. 19 was kinda hard to get through, but i conquered it. Please, let me know what you think! And I hope you enjoy! -LR**

It was just as he said. A door beneath the road in the side of the hill.

And the key to that door was Silence.

I thought about my Stormcloak brothers, and I thought about the prospect of my own flesh and blood being on the other side of the door. But mostly, I thought about the Dragonborn, the one Ralof had known as Nameless, and I now knew that he was the "courier boy" with the bright, bright eyes.

I glanced to my right to where he stood tall beside me.

How could I have ever thought this man was plain?

As dark as his eyes were, his hair was pools of ink darker, like raven's feathers. It was short and curly on top of his head, but in the middle of the nape of his neck, there was a long, thin tail that had been allowed to grow and in its gratitude, it fell to his waist and rested against the slope of his back. I found myself lost in the planes of his face, and his bone structure. He was tall, just as in the dream, he was so tall. My eyes were just level with his collarbone, and with my 5'7" this is no small feat. His skin was pale under his dark armor and his hands were big and calloused.

His was unrivaled, unadulterated beauty, the like of which I had never before seen or possessed.

But also dangerous.

"As much as I love being stared at by another man," he smirked, looking pointedly at the door. "I believe you're the one who made me bring you here."

"I was, wasn't I?"

\

"You," I said, taking a cautious step back to match his predatory step forward. "You were the courier boy."

"That I was," he grinned. "And, I'm afraid you've killed my mark."

Everything suddenly clicked.

"The old woman," I breathed. "You were sent to meet Aventus. _You_ were meant to kill her."

"Clever," he said in a patronizing voice, nodding as he made his way to the other side ot the shack. "I wasn't really expecting that. No, I was expecting someone a lot more stupid."

"_Stupid-_-"

"Yes, _stupid_," he said with a cruel smile, "I mean, you'd have to be. It takes a fucking fool to actually reason through stealing from the Dark Brotherhood."

There was a long pause; he wasn't mirthful anymore, all traces of laughter gone from his eyes.

"I'm sorry, are you supposed to be scaring me?"

"Well, you'd be a complete idiot if-" he cut himself off with a grin. "Oh, right. You are."

"Are you done?" I shrugged, looking at the bolted door and the three strangers kneeling. "Because, I can't shake the feeling that you didn't bring me here just to insult me. You could've done that in Windhelm."

"Maybe I did bring you here just to insult you," he sneered.

"And that would make you the idiot," I replied.

His eyebrows shot up and he nodded, looking at me appraisingly.

"You will never know," he said, "how badly I want to kill you. _Right now_, just-"

"What's stopping you?"

"A debt," he said, remembering himself. "For the death you stole from us."

"A. . .debt?" I cast a glance at where he stood, at the three people kneeling at the far wall. "Death for death," I reasoned.

"Exactly."

"But I only stole one death from the Brotherhood."

"And it's only one that I require," he replied, squatting by middle person. "There's a contract out on one of these people. Pick one," he said, stroking the hooded face, "Execute," he continued, planting a soft kiss on the person's temple, "and your debt is repaid."

I didn't have time to play scared. Even now, I don't regret my actions. A million thoughts were blowing through my mind; I thought about each person's innocence or guilt. I thought about my brother and the kind of man he had become. I I thought about the Dragonborn and the things that must have happened to make him this way. I thought about my actions, weighed their consequences and still went through with them. Even now, I don't regret it.

I don't regret killing all three of those people.

I used the knife that I wielded against Grelod.

After the first kill, the Argonian wearing fine clothes, the Dragonborn smiled and opened his mouth as if to condescend to me. But, then, I crossed to the next man, an old woman, I could tell by the hands, and slit her throat. And still after, I moved to the third man, a brawny soldier whose affiliations I couldn't gauge, and I slit his throat as well. And the Dragonborn's smile had been wiped off his face as he stared at me, bewildered.

Don't get me wrong. I didn't regret my actions, and still don't. But, they would haunt me.

What if the woman was a mother? What if the Argonian was an honest man? What if the soldier was a Stormcloak brother?

I didn't regret taking their lives.

But they served my purpose.

"I owed you a death," I said, laying down the third body and wiping my hands. "And I gave you three. So you owe me two."

"That's not how it works."

"That's how it works today," I said dangerously, rolling my shoulders. "Or, we've got a problem."

He eyed my shoulders, and the dagger in my hand.

"You sure you can handle us having a problem?"

"I'll put it this way: killing you will be half as simple as killing these three."

He watched me a little longer, a small smile playing across his lips.

"Do you know the rumors?" he asked. "Do you know what they say about you being the prince of Death?" The Dragonborn grinned. "I think I'm starting to believe them."

"Good," I said. "Because they're true."

He laughed then, and it wasn't one of his original, sarcastic laughs. It was a real one- a good one. It seemed like he was identifying with me. Like maybe he had sold himself to Death, too.

"What would you like me to do?" he asked, taking a seat on a weathered chest of drawers. "You've two debts over me. How would you like to spend them?"

"I don't want two deaths in return, I want information. You will answer two questions of mine, and we'll have a square deal."

"Ask away."

"Is Adjin O'Naharis the new leader of the Dark Brotherhood?"

This took him completely aback, and before he could mask his reaction with sarcasm, his eyes had widened, his breaths had shortened and his body had tensed.

He slowly brought his gaze level with mine.

"Interesting question," he smiled.

"One that you'll answer with the truth."

"Threats are unnecessary," he announced, tilting his head all the way back and looking at the rafters. "You don't have to beat it out of me; I'll tell you for the asking." He dropped his head back down, and looked at me again. "And the answer is yes. Adjin is the Listener of the Brotherhood."

My heart was racing in my chest.

"That was my first question," I managed with a ragged voice. I couldn't let on what I truly felt: a mix of joy, fear, grief and impatience.

"So, go on then," the Dragonborn said irritatedly. "Your next couldn't possibly be worse that one."

I took a deep breath, and fixed my eyes on him, a look that said Oh, yes, it could.

"Take me to the Brotherhood," I said clearly. "Take me to Adjin."

What I didn't realize then, was what this all would mean in just a matter of hours.

\

"_Silence, Brother_," the Dragonborn whispered it sweetly, like he was praying.

As I watched him out of the corner of my eye, I realized that he wasn't the heartless bastard we'd thought him to be in our routine forums in Candlehearth Hall. This man was not without purpose; he did care for something. He cared for the Dark Brotherhood.

The doors creaked open at his words, and I almost laughed at the irony, because it was my brother who had been taken by the assassin's silence. And I wasn't sure if I could ever possibly save him from it.

The door led to a tunnel and the tunnel led to a chamber and at the center of the chamber was Adjin.

I almost lost it upon seeing him.

He was right there. RIGHT THERE.

Eight years apart, _right there_, you don't know the frustration. The anger. The pain. The joy.

Fuck walking, I wanted to run to him.

He was as tall as I remembered.

He, Jarsha and Baba, the giants who held up our house.

The house was gone though, and only two giants left.

This was one of them.

He was built exactly the same as before; strong and broad-shouldered and endlessly tall. His skin was dark like fertile earth, his goatee had grown longer and fuller. The gold rings I'd once forged him as a present were still bound around it. His hair had grown out in an afro from its once shaved-down state. Brynjolf, Ulfric, the Dragonborn aside, he was still the most beautiful, the most perfect, the wisest and strongest man in the world, my oldest brother.

Eight years.

He was now thirty-two.

"Adji" the Dragonborn stuttered, "Adjin, I- we- this Redguard, see, he- I-"

"Slow down," my brother said in the deep voice I remembered. "Now, count to ten."

The Dragonborn closed his eyes and started counting.

"Good. Now, backwards."

He followed Adji's orders.

I could barely conceal with tears and the smile on my face.

But luckily, both urges dissipated at his next words.

"Now, did you want something, Segen?"

My jaw dropped, my eyes bulged, my body trembled.

_He knows_, I thought to myself, _He knows me. He still_-

"Yes," the Dragonborn answered. "This Redguard is the man who stole Grelod's death from m- from

us."

_What? Why is his name-_

My heart stopped cold, I swear.

"This man?" Adjin's eyes took me in, and I knew then I was a stranger. "Why is he here now? Tell me, friend, why do you cry so? Segen, why have you brought this man here? Segen?"

I wept.

In Hegathe, when someone close to you dies, you pass his second name on to your first born child. In this way, he lives on, replaced in your heart by your own flesh and blood.

"Segen!"

I wept.

**(A/N: The whole time I was writing this part, I listened to "My Body is a Cage" by Arcade Fire, and it just served to heighten the experience! Let me know what you guys think, or if you playlist fanfics as I do, let me know what you would've chosen! -LR )**


	20. Chapter 20: Father's Will

**Hullo, everyone! I promised you a juicy follow-up chapter, and here it is. Will Rontu/Na'el expose herself? Who is the Dragonborn to Adjin? And why has Adjin given him Rontu's second name of Segen? Only time (and this chapter) will tell. I hope you enjoy! -LR**

I lay awake in my brother's bed.

Wide awake, but I kept my eyes shut because Adjin was just outside in his solar, speaking to. . .to the Dragonborn.

"I will deal with this," he said, "No one must interfere."

"But, who is he?"

"I'll. . .explain it to you, later. For now, we're taking care of him."

"_Why_, though," the Dragonborn complained. "We aren't a hotel, Adjin. He asked to meet you, so I brought him here. In truth, I thought you'd kill him, maybe amuse yourself. But now, we're _nursing_ people? Why are you going out of your way to-"

"Because the Night Mother asked if of us, Marrick," Adji snapped warningly, and that shut him up.

_Marrick_, I thought. It was more fitting for him than- well, mine.

"The Night Mother. . ."

"And even if she hadn't asked it, I am your Listener. The head of the Dark Brotherhood. You will not contradict me again."

"Understood."

I listened to Marrick's footsteps as he walked away from the door.

Then, Adji entered through it.

"Stop your shit," he sighed. "I have enough to deal with from him, so don't start."

I flicked my eyes open and gave him a hard stare.

"How did you know I was awake?"

"Because you always were piss-poor at faking sleep."

I sat up in the bed.

"Oh, so now you know me?" I fumed. "Now you would call me 'Segen'?"

"Rontu-"

"Does he even know what it means? The meaning of 'Segen', or even the fact that you've replaced me with him? Does he know?"

"If you would only listen-"

"Because, it's not just me, Adjin, you've been stringing this beardless boy along, as well, making him think you're as alone as he must be."

"Marrick is strong," Adjin said dismissively. "He will understand. It's merely a pet name, after all."

I stared at him in disbelief and astonishment.

"Where is my brother, because you aren't him," I whispered.

"Rontu-"

"You aren't. Adjin is not this heartless, unconstant man. You don't think it will hurt him, to part with an endearment? Because it hurt me, to find out I'd been replaced. He's not even of your blood!" Adjin's eyes lowered to the floor, and that act alone turned me into the fourteen-year-old girl I'd been eight years ago. I brought my knees up to my chest and gripped them tight, tears flowing uncontrollably. "I don't understand! Why- why did you just- I didn't- I couldn't- I was alone!" I shut my eyes tight. "I used to dream of you coming home, Farrid. And we'd all be a family again. But all I got was dust."

"Don't say that, I-"

"Dust that was kicked up by your horse, remember? I went screaming and hollering after you. Mana, holding me back. Baba, yelling curses after you. Paia, clinging to me, too, telling me you'd be back. And, then, Jarsha, sticking to the doorframe, not able to say a word, just crying, crying, crying-"

"_Rontu, that's enough_!"

"Is it, now?" I asked, springing out of the bed, and closing the distance between us. "How about when you turned around?"

"Stop it."

"Turned around, because I'd broken free and hopped up on Enriz's back, right up behind you. And you stopped. And Baba caught up to us. And you took me and held me for two second before you passed me back to him. That's when I knew-"

"Rontu-"

"When I knew that you'd never be back."

"_I didn't mean it_," he said in anguish, gripping me by the shoulders. "I didn't, Rontu, I swear!"

"_Don't call me that, ever again_!" I said clearly, pushing away. "Tell me, did you think me dead?"

"What else? When I found out about Hegathe, I was beside myself. There were rumors of survivors-"

"Rumors that I spread, to find _you_!"

"How was I to know that they were true?" he boomed. "I was beside myself, but I had people to feed, to house, to support!"

"And I had no one!"

"Rontu. . ." His face looked weak. Broken. I knew this wasn't the first time Adjin had considered his abandonment of me. "I missed you more than life itself. But my hands were tied. I knew you were strong and I knew you would come sooner or later."

"I was fourteen!"

"You were_ trained_."

"_Trained_?" I scoffed, and almost spat in his face. "And how has training helped me, brother? With all these years, and all those deaths, and with this face. _Look at me_!" I screamed, as his gaze flicked away. "Look at this face, Adjin. I was trained to not care about ruining it. I was trained to disregard vanity-the 'body', in Body, Heart, Soul. Look at me now, Adjin! Farrid! _Brother_!" At that last word, he finally stared at me full-on. "I gave up my body, corrupted my heart. Sold my soul to Death himself. No _training_ prepared for that."

Adjin didn't say anything at first, but what he did was enough. He knelt down by my bare feet and pressed his forehead to the floor in front of them. It was how you apologize to a superior. This was how a man apologized when he had everything to lose, but believed his life was nothing without the other party's forgiveness.

"I'm sorry," he told my feet. "Rontu, I'm so sorry."

"Me, too," I said back. "Me, too."

He raised his head, and I sat back onto the bed, before reaching for Baba's blade.

"I've come to give this back to you, Adjin Farrid O'Naharis," I said through tears I hadn't noticed gathering. "It was his last wish."

Adjin pressed his forehead back to the earth, the great sword resting in front of him.

I left him to our Father's Will.

\

I ate with my brother's family, which consisted of a young girl, ages older and more dangerous than me, a slightly insane (but aren't we all) man dressed as a jester, a young merry-hearted Argonian, a sarcastic Dunmer woman, a fellow Redguard man, a withering, old mage, a great, Nord werewolf, his wife, the true leader of the Brotherhood, a woman's corpse, Adjin and Marrick, who spent the entire meal glowering at me.

"You see, in truth, the Night Mother is our leader," the old mage chuckled, "whom her Keeper, Cicero here, was kind enough to bring to us. Astrid has been our Listener for some time now, but it is Adjin who hears the Night Mother's wishes now, we have discovered. Though we still obey Astrid."

"Yer damn right," growled her husband, Arnbjorn, who was greatly reminding me of my Bjorn.

"So, that about wraps us up," Astrid smiled, patting her husband's arm. "What about you? I fear you've told us nothing of yourself, and neither has Adjin. Who are you to him?"

"His brother," I said, giving Adjin a glance. "My name is Raigatz."

First Rontu. Then, Segen. The Na'el. And now, Raigatz. My father's name. Adjin gripped his fork in a tight fist.

"Brother. . ?"

I couldn't bring myself to see Marrick's face after learning Adjin was not alone.

"Yes. There are four of us. Adjin is the eldest."

"No," Marrick argued. "There are _nine_ of us. Adjin, Astrid, Arnbjorn, Festus, Gabby, Nazir, Veezara Babette and me. Maybe ten," he said, nodding at Cicero. "But not you. You aren't welcome."

"_Marrick_."

Adjin's voice was brutal, like the cut of sharp steel.

Marrick drew in a deep breath, and his eyes dropped.

"My brother came a long way to find me. He risked his life. Sacrificed much and more. You will not disrespect him, Marrick."

The Dragonborn grew very still, his eyes fixed on the table.

"He was chased from our homeland, in Hegathe," Adji informed the group.

"Ah," nodded Nazir, the other Redguard. "You were in the war."

"Yes. I, our father and mother, and the rest of our house. They fought bravely, but. . .in the end, they fell."

Adjin took a deep breath, his shoulders falling heavily.

But he said nothing, and didn't need to.

"Hegathe fell to the Aldmeri Dominion, as did my home, Stros M'kai," Nazir told Astrid, and she smiled.

"That little problem of the Empire will undo itself very nicely and very soon. Don't worry, Raigatz," she said warmly. "Your brother will solve everything."

\

"Who the fuck do you think you are, just waltzing into our lives like that?"

Marrick had cornered me by the pool in the hideout's cave.

That night had been proving to be one of the ones where I couldn't sleep.

"Who do I think I am?" I laughed. "_Who do I think I am_? I am the truth, Marrick, come to shed light on the borrowed fantasy that is your life." I slid off the rock I was sitting on and strode to him. "I am the every fear you never realized you had, of Adjin having a family besides you, having someone to return you, besides you, having people with the same blood running in their veins as his, besides-" I cut myself off with a sly, bitter smile. "Oh, that's right. You don't share our blood, do you?"

"You vicious, deceptive-"

"Oh, what? I was supposed to sit here, and let you walk all over me? Let you guilt me into letting you steal my brother? Fuck that and fuck you for thinking it. I won't sit idly by. You will never need him as much as me."

"I won't?" he boomed. "I won't? You could never know what that man has done for me. My life was shit then. When I was abandoned as a bastard's son, at age four, and had to pick pockets to feed myself. When at age ten, they stuck me in Honorhall Orphanage where Grelod the Kind wore my ass out nightly because when I cried myself to sleep, it woke her up. When I was thrown out by the Thieves Guild because Mercer framed me for stealing coin. When I joined the pirate crew of the Red Wave, and was going to be scapegoated and left for dead, and who was it who saved me? At least you had a family, Raigatz, because I'll tell you now, I've just come into mine and I'm not letting it go. My life was shit then, and it still is, but at least it's shit with a family."

"And was that supposed to move me?" I sneered. "My brother abandoned me when I was fourteen years old, to war and famine and death. At nineteen I had to bury our parents, but only after using their dead bodies to hide the fact that I still drew breath when the Empire invaded my house and slaughtered my family. No one was there for me then. So don't fucking talk to me about never having a family, because as bad as that must be, there's nothing worse than having one and then having it pried away from you."

He leaned in close, breathing hard, those cold, dark eyes focused on mine.

"And what do you think you're doing to me?" I tried to push past him, but he held fast to my arm, dragging me back to face him. "What do you think you're doing to me, taking away the only family I've ever had?"

I jerked my arm away.

"What would I be doing to myself if I didn't?"

"I don't know, a good person?" he offered mockingly.

"I'm sorry, Master Dragonborn, but won't you be off fighting some cataclysmic battle against Alduin soon enough? If that's so, then why don't you just let me go with my brother now, before you get ready to perish in flames?"

"And what the fuck for?" he bellowed. "I don't owe this world shit! Not with the hand my life has dealt me, fuck no. Why should I give my life and time for it? Huh?"

"He really hasn't told you what 'Segen' means," I snorted. "You really don't know a damned thing about Adjin."

His jaw clenched.

I waited a few moments for him to respond, but he seemed to be fighting with himself about it all. In truth, of course I felt horrible for him. And, in truth, I felt that he was partly right. Even if Adjin hadn't been being a brother to me, at least he was being a brother to somebody. And with the life Marrick had lived, it was to somebody who deserved it.

But, I had had a shit life, too.

Where was my happy family?

"What. . ." Marrick said, before clearing his throat, and my attention snapped back up to him. "What was it you said to him? That made him bow down to you like that." I raised my brows. "Oh, sure, I eavesdropped. Come off it."

"The truth," I shrugged. "That I needed him when he wasn't there. And that the time I spent alone turned me into a monster."

"I've never seen him bow down to any man like that," Marrick confessed. "Not Adjin."

"Well, if you believe the stories, I'm not just any man."

"A Death-Prince?" he asked, with a half-smile. "He mentioned a brother and sister," he said, at which I flinched. "I'm guessing you're the brother. Raigatz. What was his sister's name?"

"Segen." My answer was automatic. "Her name was Segen."

". . .So, that's it," he said quietly. "He told me she died. That they all died. I'm sorry about that."

"Thank you."

"He thought you dead, too. But you aren't. Is it possible she's-"

"No," I sighed. "She's as dead as it gets."

"I really am sorry," he said after a pause. "He calls me after her, you know. Segen. He says I remind him of her."

"How?"

"Well, he says she was stubborn. Fiery. Resilient. Good." He shook his head. "I dunno about that last part. He made me think she was some kind of angel." He shrugged. "Maybe she was."

I narrowed my eyes, and he flinched as I drew Grelod's iron dagger from his holster in my belt.

"This is for you," I said.

"Wha-"

"You mentioned Honorhall Orphanage. You said how she beat you," I reminded him, and pressed the dagger into his hand. "It's hers, and I killed her with it. I took to calling it Aventus' Contract. It's just iron, but I figured-"

"Thank you," he said.

"I'm sorry," I said sincerely. "I'm sorry I killed her. I know now that that's why you said you wanted to kill me, back when we were in that shack. I'd want to kill me, too, I think. That was fucked-up of me."

"I guess we're all a little fucked-up," he sighed, sitting down at the water's edge. "I stole Adjin. You stole Grelod."

"You stole Segen, too," I commented, sitting down next to him. "But, who's counting.

He laughed.

It was that real laugh he'd shown me before, and I felt I could hate him a little less.

"What does Segen mean, anyway?" he asked, and that gave me pause.

"Someday, if you show me, I just might tell you."

"I'll hold you to that," he grinned. Nothing prepared me for what came next. "Have you ever had your fortune told?" he asked on a whim.

A whim that gave me a fucking heart-attack.

_You will be loved by a shadow, a king and a dragon._

_You will love a shadow, a king and a dragon._

"Can't say that I have." I paused, trying to control the panic that was setting in. "Have you?"

"Yeah, when I was ten years old," he snorted. "I dunno why I thought about that, now. I guess it's because I should've known then that I'd have shit luck."

"What was it?" I asked.

"_You will love a coward, a liar and a thief_," Marrick recited.

I froze.

But it was all so surreal and warped and fucked-up that I could only break out laughing.

"Yeah, you got some shit luck there, my friend," I grinned. "Some shit luck, indeed."


End file.
